Coup de Grâce
by Jo. R
Summary: Abby's involvement with the NSA, past and present, puts her future at risk. Sequel to 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci'. Established Gibbs/Abby.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Coup de Grâce  
>Author: Jo. R (driftingatdusk)<br>Rating: FR-15  
>Pairing: GibbsAbby, mild McGee/Ruby Rae (a hint of Tony/Ziva if you choose to see it)  
>Category: Drama, Angst, Romance, Case-file,<br>Spoilers: The S7 episode arc – 'Semper Fi', 'Borderland', 'Patriot Down', 'Rule 51'. Slight for 'Cracked', 'False Witness'  
>Summary: Sequel to 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci'. Abby's involvement with the NSA, past and present, puts her future at risk.<br>Authors Note: I've tried to make it so it's not necessary to read the previous story but you might find it beneficial to do so.  
>Authors Note 2: Coup de Grâce - originally a blow by which one condemned or mortally wounded is 'put out of his misery'. Figuratively, a finishing stroke, one that settles or puts an end to something.<p>

Prologue

* * *

><p>There was no body, no headstone standing proud in a sea of graves in a cemetery. There'd been no service, no gathering of friends and family to weep over a closed casket and mourn the vibrant life that was no more.<p>

He didn't think it would have helped even if there had been.

The broken chain draped over his palm and the blood they'd found inside her car were all they had to prove she was gone. He kept the necklace, a simple white gold chain with two smaller-than-standard, decorative dog tags, with him at all times. If he was awake, it was safely stored in the pocket of whatever jacket he was wearing, within reach of his fingertips at all times, a tangible connection to her. If he was asleep, the chain sat on his bedside table, beside his gun, as he tossed and turned restlessly across the otherwise empty bed.

His fingertips danced over the sides of the dog tags, over the symbols and words carved into them. He closed his hand around it, forming a fist, feeling the edges dig into his flesh, branding him.

NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat on the stool in his basement, staring blankly at the shell of the latest boat he'd started to build.

Over a month had passed since she'd gone, more than a month without Abby Sciuto in his life. It wasn't the longest he'd gone without seeing her, having spent three months in Mexico with only the occasional phone call from the forensic specialist but it felt like the longest weeks of his life.

Only the months and years after Shannon and Kelly had died had felt just as long, and just as lonely.

He'd thrown himself into his work, buried himself in case after case. His agents and friends were not only exhausted from the sheer amount of work he gave them to do but concerned about his wellbeing, too.

Gibbs knew it but couldn't find it in himself to change, not yet. It was still too soon, still too raw. And even when he did, it wouldn't matter.

Abby would still be gone.

* * *

><p>Previously<p>

* * *

><p>A wave of déjà vu swept over her as she paced back and forth in the small corridor just off the courtroom, waiting to be called to testify. It was the third time in as many months she'd been called to give evidence in a trial relating to Josef Branley and she suspected the ending would be the same, too.<p>

Josef Branley was a clever man. A devious, immoral and dangerous man but his intelligence was something that couldn't be denied. They all knew he was capable of the crimes he was accused of – the murder of a Marine, in the most recent case against him, who had died because he couldn't afford to pay for the drugs he'd been using – and they all knew he had orchestrated each of them, too, but he was clever in that he managed to do so from the comfortable surroundings of the penthouse apartment of the building he owned. He was as powerful as any high-ranking politician, with hundreds if not thousands of underlings willing to do his bidding for a price he was willing to pay.

He was ruthless and made sure that those who crossed him didn't live long enough to even think about doing it again. He had a network of suppliers and associates that stretched all across North America as well as links to Mexico and Europe and was responsible for supplying a steady stream of illegal drugs to those who wanted them. Most were able to afford his services but those who couldn't, like the unfortunate Marine, soon found their debts settled in another, more permanent way.

Although they always had enough evidence to secure a conviction against Branley, he always managed to get out if. If there wasn't a scapegoat available to take the fall, bribes and blackmail seemed to do the trick nicely, though of course there was no evidence of that when NCIS, the FBI or the CIA investigated.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves – Abby hated court even at the best of times – she looked up at the sound of footsteps echoing along the tiled hallway. Her smile of greeting was small but the warmth in her green eyes was genuine as she watched Gibbs walk towards her, his strides long but his pace unhurried.

"Hey."

"Hey." He reached out to her, his fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek as he tucked an errant strand of black hair behind her ear. The touch wasn't accidental, they both knew that, though it would look it to anyone who didn't know them. "You okay?"

"I'd prefer to be in my lab," Abby answered honestly, one shoulder rising and falling in a casual shrug. "You don't have to be here, you know. You've got the Westward case to wrap up."

"Can't do anything else till Edmonds shows his face." He dropped his hand to the side – reluctantly, she noted with another small smile.

"Branley's not gonna try anything if that's what you're worried about." She smiled at the momentarily surprise in his blue eyes at having been so easily sussed. "I doubt I even register on his radar."

"Third time you've gone up against him in court," Gibbs reminded her unnecessarily. "He's gonna start taking us seriously soon."

She squared her shoulders against a shudder and tilted her chin up, a defiant look on her face. "The sooner he takes us seriously, the sooner he realises he won't get away with what he does forever." Her expression softened at the look on his. "Don't worry, Gibbs, I've got no intention of making myself a target. Think I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime."

Her rueful tone was justified. Not more than six months ago, Abby's past had come back to haunt her, resulting in her – with the help of the NSA – setting herself up as a target for a known terrorist she'd already made an enemy of. Her earlier career as an agent with the National Security Agency – and her childhood spent mostly in a NSA devised think-tank-come-school had come as a surprise to the colleagues who had become her family. It was only thanks to luck and the NCIS agents that Abby and her niece had survived, though the former hadn't walked away entirely unscathed – the scar on her thigh reminded them both of that on a daily basis.

"See that you don't." Gibbs' tone was gruff, and she didn't need to know him as well as she did to see he, too, was recalling the events of less than a year ago.

Not that those events had been entirely bad. Yes, one of her closest friends had been murdered in the apartment she now no longer lived in and yes, her past had been exposed, leaving her vulnerable and uncertain as to her future with NCIS but at least one good thing had emerged from the traumatic experience, too. Her relationships with all of her NCIS family had been strengthened as a result of it, and her relationship with Gibbs himself had changed, deepened, in a way that neither of them could regret.

"It works both ways, Gibbs," she reminded him lightly, glancing up and down the hall to check they were alone before moving closer, invading his personal space without apology as he'd done to her so many times in the past. "No making yourself a target, either."

She didn't need to stand on her tiptoes thanks to the high heels she wore and Abby took advantage of being a few inches taller, of standing eye-to-eye with him, by putting her hands on his shoulders and leaning in to kiss him gently. His hands moved automatically to her hips, fingers curling, digging in lightly as he returned her kiss.

They broke apart after a few moments, both aware the hallway outside of the courtroom wasn't the best place to be caught in a compromising position. Abby smiled at him softly as she took a step away, reaching up to tenderly wipe away the smudge of red lipstick that had transferred from her lips to his.

She dug in her purse for her small compact mirror, checking her own appearance quickly before putting it away. The doors beside them opened before either could say anything and she squared her shoulders again, subconsciously moving to stand beside him as he, too, stood straighter, standing side-by-side, ready to face whoever it was together.

The sight of them looking so much like a united force gave the JAG lawyer serving for the prosecution a momentary pause as he glanced at them speculatively before nodding in greeting to the NCIS agent he hadn't been expecting.

"Agent Gibbs, Abby." Lieutenant Commander Adrian Lowes clasped his hands in front of him. "We've got a ten minute break, then you'll be called to the stand," he informed Abby, his gaze darting from the pretty forensic specialist to the intimidating agent at her side. "There have been some developments I should make you aware of..."

"Developments?" It was Gibbs who asked, an eyebrow arching. His hand moved instinctively to Abby's back, reassuring and protective, and Lt. Commander Lowes wondered if he even realised he'd done it. "What kind...?"

"The lawyer for the defence was replaced at the last moment," Lowes explained quietly. "We're now dealing with a Ms. Hart, from Wolfram, Hart and Donowitz..." He paused at the look they exchanged. "You've dealt with her before?"

"Our paths have crossed," Abby answered evasively, her shoulders tensing further. "Last I heard, she was out of the country."

Lowes shrugged. "She's back now, and she's tough. I think she's already got half of the jury eating out of her hand, believing Bradley is just a misunderstood innocent who got caught up in a bad situation."

"She's good at letting the bad guys walk," Gibbs muttered, recalling it was M. Allison Hart who had secured Colonel Bell's release from a prison in Mexico, unwittingly aiding the Reynosa cartel in getting their revenge against him. Paloma Reynosa, leader of the cartel, and her brother, Alejandro Rivera, Mexican official, had used Colonel Bell's grudge against Gibbs for their own purpose – to get vengeance against the NCIS Agent for the murder of their father, Pedro Hernandez, the man who was responsible for the murders of Shannon and Kelly Gibbs.

Abby gave him a speculative look, her shoulders slumping. "She's good at letting the good guys walk, too," she said quietly, more of a whisper than a murmur.

It was Gibbs' turn to look at her, though Lowes noted she didn't return the glance. Glancing down at his watch, seeing that recess was almost over, Lowes sighed softly. "Are you ready, Abby? You don't want to go through your answers again?"

"I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be," Abby answered, a quick smile curving the corners of her mouth. She did glance at Gibbs then, Lowes noticed. "You don't have to stay. I can see you back at NCIS later."

His cell phone rang before he could reply. He pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the display before giving her an apologetic glance. "Call me when you're done," he told her instead, leaning in to kiss her cheek gently before turning away, flipping the phone open and putting it to his ear. "Yeah, Gibbs."

Abby watched him walk away before turning back to Lieutenant Commander Lowes. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

><p>She was left alone as the trial resumed, only to be called in a short while later. She took the stand, her eyes meeting Margaret Allison Hart's for a few brief moments as she waited to be asked the first question. The other woman couldn't hold her gaze for long, averting her eyes to the open file in front of her as though in shame.<p>

Interesting, Abby thought to herself, making a mental note to try and catch a few moments alone with the lawyer later. They hadn't spoken since the day Abby had handed over the report she'd compiled on Pedro Hernandez's murder, a report that could have – should have – taken Gibbs out of her life and put him behind bars. It was the hardest thing she'd done, Abby thought, to trust someone else to save the man she loved, knowing there was nothing else she could do.

Putting those thoughts from her mind, she was soon distracted again – not by the questions she knew the answers to by heart but by the lone person she saw slip into the back row of seats in the courtroom.

NSA Agent Catherine Lowry caught her eye and gave her an apologetic smile, causing the knot of dread in Abby's stomach to tighten.


	2. Chapter 2

Josef Branley was found not guilty by the majority of jurors and walked out of the courtroom with a confident swagger and a self-satisfied smirk. He greeted the awaiting journalists and paparazzi with a well-practised air and carefully prepared answers to their questions.

Abby stood back and watched him from the steps of the courthouse, her eyes narrowed as he was escorted to the car waiting for him.

"I would say I'm sorry..." Margaret Allison Hart started, her voice quiet against the questions still being called out to her client.

"I'm sure you have your reasons," Abby replied, just as softly. She glanced at the other woman as she came to stand beside her. "If you were there celebrating with your client, I'd be less inclined to talk to you." She shrugged and looked back at Branley. "But I guess I owe you one, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

It was Allison's turn to shrug, a sigh escaping her as she, too, watched her client make his exit. "You owe me nothing, Ms. Sciuto. I heard about what happened – afterwards. I guess I'm lucky I was out of the country, I doubt Alejandro would've been happy with me for keeping the report from him."

"That's why I owe you," Abby murmured, slanting another look at the woman beside her. "Don't take this the wrong way... But why are you back?"

Allison looked down at her feet for several moments before lifting her gaze to Abby's, regret shining in her blue eyes. "Let's just say I was made an offer I couldn't refuse," she said eventually, her tone as cryptic as her answer. "Take care of yourself, Ms. Sciuto."

"You, too." Abby watched her go, noting the way she carefully avoided the journalists and photographers waiting for the next big break in their stories, and wondered if their paths would cross again – hoped that they wouldn't. It wasn't that she disliked the other woman; how could she after what Allison had done for Gibbs? And it wasn't that she was insecure about her relationship with Gibbs, either; she knew he loved her and that that would top any attraction he'd once felt for the attractive lawyer. But there was something that didn't feel right about Allison's sudden reappearance in their lives, something that made her instinctively wary.

Or, Abby thought as she sensed someone move to take Allison's place at her side, maybe there was some other reason for how she felt.

"Catherine," she greeted her former mentor and boss at the NSA coolly, staring ahead at the dwindling crowds on the courthouse steps. "I'd ask what brings you here but I'm not sure I want to know."

* * *

><p>She let herself into the house, noting the lights already on in the living room. Instead of going back to NCIS, Abby had called and spoke to Director Leon Vance, asking for a half-day off in exchange for the overtime she'd put in on the last few cases. He'd agreed readily, surprised she had asked but unable to turn down her request, knowing just as well as she did how much vacation time she'd managed to accrue.<p>

She'd hoped to have made it back to the house before Gibbs finished for the day but knew from the lights in the windows and the warmth that greeted her as she stepped over the threshold that she'd been unsuccessful.

Gibbs walked out of the kitchen to meet her as she walked through the living room, the smile on his face offset by the concern in his eyes. "You okay?" He asked instantly, automatically looking her over for any sign of harm or injury. "Vance said you'd asked for the afternoon off."

"I needed some retail therapy," Abby answered, hating herself for the lie. "Window shopping only," she continued with a teasing smile, hoping to distract him, "since you said I'm not allowed to buy myself anything until after my birthday."

He gave her a slow grin in return, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested he didn't believe her. "I heard about the case."

She shrugged and moved forward, willingly accepting the hug he offered her although for different reasons than what he thought. "It's okay," she said softly, her words muffled against him as she pressed her face against his shoulder, inhaling deeply. The familiar scent of him both calmed her and made her heart ache. "We'll get him next time."

"Next time," he repeated, his lips brushing the top of her head as his arms closed around her waist. "I made dinner, if you're hungry. If you're not, I can take it off the heat and we can eat later..."

Sliding her hands up his arms, one curling around his shoulder and the other coming to rest at the back of his neck, Abby tilted her face up to accept his kiss, parting her lips to allow him to deepen the kiss after a few moments. She closed her eyes and sighed into the kiss, pressing her body more firmly against his as one of his hands slid from her hip to rest on the curve of her behind, encouraging the increase in contact.

Several breathless moments later, she pulled away, her eyes dazed, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. "Eat later?" She suggested breathlessly, her fingers already moving to the buttons of the shirt he wore.

He reached up to still her fingers, his eyes dark with promise. "Go check the door's locked," he instructed, lowering his head to steal another kiss. "I'll put dinner on hold."

* * *

><p>Another day meant another case. Just as the Westward case was winding down – the victim's sister-in-law was found guilty of killing him when he threatened to reveal their affair to his higher-ranking brother – Gibbs and his team of agents found themselves thrown into another case involving Josef Branley.<p>

"The guy doesn't waste any time," Tony DiNozzo muttered, taking photographs of the two victims found in a motel not far from the Navy Yard.

The victims fell under NCIS jurisdiction. One was a Navy Lieutenant, the other a Gunny in the Marines; both former clients of Branley's who had testified against him in their last unsuccessful attempt at taking the man down.

"How did he get their names?" Ziva David wondered, looking up from the floor where she was collecting blood and fibre samples to be taken back to the lab for Abby. "We made sure to keep them from any official records."

Tim McGee shrugged as he used his PDA to complete a background search on the two dead men. "He has friends in high places," he muttered, "obviously higher than we thought."

"Makes you wonder if he's got friends in NCIS," Tony mumbled under his breath. He looked up after a few moments, having expected to feel his boss's hand against the back of his head for his comment. "Boss?"

Gibbs stood a small distance away, scribbling notes by hand into the little reporter-style notepad he carried around with him. "It's a possibility, DiNozzo. One we can't really ignore at this stage." He shrugged when all three of his agents stopped what they were doing and looked at him. "Only a handful of people knew the identities of those willing to testify against Branley. Four of us are in this room."

It was an accusation that there could be a spy amongst the team but a stark warning that there could be in NCIS itself. If wouldn't be the first time, they all had to accept and acknowledge that.

"Oh, dear." Doctor Donald Mallard, known as Ducky to his friends, entered the room with his assistant, Jimmy Palmer, as the agents were considering their boss's words. The Medical Examiner sighed and looked from one body to the other. "Such an unfortunate way to start one's day, puzzling over a double homicide. These gentleman look familiar, Jethro," he continued, glancing up at the lead agent on the case. "Have we met them before?"

"You might've seen them around Headquarters, Duck," Gibbs answered after a short pause, recalling the few times Ronson and Jenkins had visited NCIS to make their statements. "They testified against Branley three days ago."

"Ah, yes, I remember them now." Ducky sighed and shook his head. "I expect they thought they'd be on their way to their new lives by now, though doubt either of them expected to leave their old ones quite like this. Don't just stand there, Jimmy. Go and get the other stretcher."

"Yes, Doctor Mallard."

Watching his agents finish what they were doing and move aside to make room for the ME, Gibbs joined Ducky at the side of the bed where the first body – Lieutenant Ronson – lay. "Cause of death, Ducky?"

"Given the amount of blood on the sheets and the floor, I'd be tempted to say the gunshot to his abdomen killed this young man," Ducky said after a momentary pause. His brow furrowed as he looked down at the second body on the floor beside the bed, Gunnery Sergeant Jenkins. "His friend, however, seems uninjured. I may not be able to tell you what killed him until we've taken him back to the morgue."

"Time of death?" Gibbs pressed, waiting only a moment for Ducky to dig around in his bag and withdraw the instruments he'd need to check. He ignored Ducky's exasperated look, arching his eyebrows instead when an answer wasn't immediately forthcoming.

"For this young man, I'd say he died between seven and eight hours ago," Ducky said after a long pause in which he checked his readings. He moved from the body on the bed to the body on the floor and performed the same procedure. "And this young man died between six and seven hours ago. That's interesting." The ME continued to mumble to himself as he carried out a cursory examination of the marine on the floor, making small sounds every so often that Gibbs knew from experience meant he'd found something he wanted to look into further.

After a few moments more, when it became clear the medical examiner wasn't willing to share his theories until he had something concrete to back them up, Gibbs straightened with a sigh and turned his attention back to his agents, who were finishing up around the room. "McGee, DiNozzo, get everything catalogued and back to Abby. Ziva, you're with me."

Casting her teammates an almost smug look, Ziva handed the evidence bags she'd gathered to Tony before following Gibbs out of the motel room. "We are going to see Josef Branley, yes?"

"If he's free," Gibbs confirmed, heading for the driver's side of the car. "No doubt there'll be some reason he can't speak to us."

* * *

><p>The evidence was piled high on the worktops of her lab. Abby started processing it, as methodical as always, but couldn't quite bring herself to focus on it fully. Her eyes kept straying to the doorway, her heart racing every time she heard the ding of the elevators. She sat at the desk in her office as she waited for her tests to complete themselves, pen in hand as she put her thoughts and feelings down on paper.<p>

When Tony arrived at her lab a few hours later, a Caf-Pow in hand, Abby couldn't decide whether she was relieved or disappointed to be disrupted. She hurriedly covered the pieces of paper on her desk with the files she'd been working on early and stood, moving to the main part of the lab to meet him.

"Hey, Tony." She greeted him with a warm smile regardless, accepting the drink in his hand. "Gibbs and Ziva still out?"

"They're waiting for an audience with Branley," Tony explained, following her over to the computer with only a mildly curious glance in the direction of her office. Abby, he knew, had to complete reports at the end of every case just like he and the others had. The paperwork was, in Tony's opinion, one of the worst aspects of investigative work. "Seems he won't talk to them without his lawyer present."

To Abby's credit, she only hesitated for a second, shrugging when she felt Tony's gaze on her. "I doubt it'll take Ms. Hart long to get from her office to his building. Do you know if they're talking to him there or bringing him back here?"

"Ms. Hart?" Tony repeated, his eyebrows shooting skywards. "As in Margaret Allison Hart? Colonel Bell's lawyer?"

Smiling a little at the surprise – and instant distrust – on his face, Abby took a long swig from her drink, drawing out the moment. "Didn't Gibbs tell you? She's his new lawyer, took over from the old guy on the last day of the trial."

"Great." He shook his head and sighed heavily. "Just what – or should I say who – we need on his side. The woman's got a knack for letting the bad guys off."

"Gibbs said something similar yesterday." Amusement coloured her tone. The conversation was a distraction from her thoughts, Abby decided, even if it wasn't exactly one she relished the thought of having. "And she's not all bad. She helped when it counted."

Assuming she meant the information Margaret Allison Hart had given Director Vance when Gibbs was in Mexico, Tony just shrugged, unimpressed. "She got Bell out of prison, had us distracted long enough that we didn't realise who the real bad guys out to get us – out to get Gibbs – were until it was almost too late to stop them."

"She said she didn't know what was going on," Abby reminded him softly. "I doubt she really knew what kind of man Colonel Bell was, and I'm sure she had no idea who Alejandro really was. None of us did. He was very convincing."

"He was smarmy," Tony argued instantly, his dislike of the Mexican official plain to see. He hadn't liked him for the part he'd played in trying to hurt their boss, and he hadn't liked him for the way he'd acted around Abby. Just the thought of the man brought out Tony's protective instincts and he found himself moving closer to Abby as though Alejandro was in the lab with them and not safely behind bars instead. "Why are you suddenly her number one fan, anyway? If I remember right, you didn't trust her, either."

"You're right, I didn't." Though part of that, Abby knew he knew, was because she'd been jealous of the lawyer, too. There'd been a time when she'd thought – largely thanks to the reports she received from Tony, Ziva and McGee – that Margaret Allison Hart was a good contender for being the next (and hopefully ex) Mrs. Gibbs and she still wasn't sure how much of the flirting between the silver-haired agent and dark-haired lawyer had been genuine and how much of it had been part of the game they'd been playing. "But she helped when it mattered," she repeated herself, remembering the report she'd written. "Besides, things are different now."

"Between you and the boss man, you mean?" He waggled his eyebrows at her when she looked to him, some of the tension leaving him as a familiar, mischievous glint entered his eyes in its place. "You gonna actually admit there's something going on there?"

"No." She rolled her eyes and fought back a smirk of her own. "I meant things are different in that the Reynosa's aren't after Gibbs anymore. And while Branley is a bad guy, he's not exactly an enemy of any of us. At least, not yet," she added, biting her bottom lip. "We have a habit of making enemies out of the wrong people, though, so that could still happen."

Tony wrapped an arm around her, drawing her against his side. "It doesn't always happen. Maybe this time we'll get lucky." He held her for a few more moments, hoping his embrace and the reassuring tone he used would calm her fears – fears she knew he shared. After the serious moment had passed, he squeezed her shoulders and dropped his arm, only to nudge her gently in the ribs. "So, about you and Gibbs..."

Abby rolled her eyes again and took another drink from her Caf-Pow. She indulged herself, and Tony, in his teasing for a little while longer, enjoying the easy affection and relaxed companionship between them. She'd been so worried at first that the exposure of her past with the NSA would put her friendships with Tony and the others in jeopardy, more concerned about losing the people she'd come to love than she had been about losing her own life.

The relief she'd felt on returning to her lab after taking time off to recuperate from her injury only to find the welcome back banner and gifts from not only the agents on Gibbs' team but the others she worked with had been immense.

Abby kissed him on the cheek before he left, promising she'd call as soon as she had results. She watched him go before returning to her office, moving the files to reveal the letters she'd started and hidden beneath them.

"I hope you can forgive me again," she murmured, running her fingertip over the neatly written names on the front of the envelopes she'd already prepared. "I hope I'm here for you to forgive."

Shaking herself mentally to rid herself of the melancholy thoughts, she resumed the task of finishing the last letter she'd started before reaching for a blank piece of paper to begin the next.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for the reviews, adds and support on this story so far. They're all really appreciated. *hugs*_

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><p>The change in their relationship meant a slight change in the tradition of celebrating her birthday the day before. While Gibbs offered to take her out for dinner as usual, to the restaurant they'd visited many times over the years, Abby declined the offer and instead opted for dinner at home and an early night.<p>

Leaving her tangled in the sheets after they'd decided to start the evening in reverse order, Gibbs made his way down stairs in his sweat pants and old t-shirt to get their evening meal. He grinned to himself as he plated up two portions of lasagne – Abby's favourite – and balanced the plates on a tray alongside the two glasses he'd refilled with the wine he'd bought in for the occasion. He carried the tray through to the living room, resting it briefly on the small coffee table so he could add the small jewellery box he fished out from his jacket pocket to it, before resuming his journey upstairs.

She was exactly where he'd left her when he returned to the bedroom and he paused for a moment in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her. She lay across the bed, her hair splayed out over the pillows. Pale skin stood out against the dark cotton of the sheets around and beneath her and her dark lips curved up into a welcoming smile when she noticed him watching her.

"Gonna stand there all night or help me forget I'm getting older?"

"How about we eat first, then I help you remember why getting old isn't always a bad thing?"

Her answering giggle was all he needed to kick the door closed behind him and cross the room to sit beside her on the bed. Their meals were temporarily forgotten as her gaze fell on the velvet covered jewellery box – and his fell on the scar just visible on her thigh where the sheets rode up around her.

"Hey." Her voice was quiet, her eyes soft. She covered the scar on her thigh with a sheet as he watched, his gaze rising to meet hers once the reminder was no longer visible. "I'm okay. I'm still here."

He covered the distance between them, kissing her gently, carefully balancing the tray between them. He wasn't a man of words and hoped he could convey all he felt in that one kiss. Drawing back after several moments, he reached own and picked up the box, offering it to her with an almost shy grin.

Abby took the box with an easy smile, biting her bottom lip as she opened the lid. The white gold necklace stood out against the dark blue satin inside, two dog tags, smaller than his own but... She narrowed her eyes as she studied them, turning them over with a gentle finger, only to widen them in surprise as she looked back at him. "'Semper Fi'," she read, stroking her finger over the Marine motto, turning the dog tag over to see his initials and hers carved side by side. Turning the second dog tag over, wondering if both sides were blank or if one was patterned, Abby stilled, studying the cross design intently. "This is my tattoo..."

"As close as I could get." He shrugged, the tips of his ears growing warm. "The jeweller worked from a sketch."

"That you drew?" She guessed correctly, smiling all the more at the sheepish expression on his face. "They're beautiful, Gibbs. I love it."

"You don't have to wear them all of the time..." He shrugged again when he looked up and caught sight of the amused affection on her face. "I know you love your collars but I thought..."

"Gibbs." She reached out and put her finger over his lips, cutting him off mid-sentence. "They're beautiful. I'd be happy to wear them all the time." She replaced her finger with her lips, kissing him gently before pulling away with a smile. "If the chain is long enough I could probably wear them with some of my collars. If it's not, I'll keep them with me some other way. Thank you. They're perfect."

He grinned, pleased with her reaction. He watched her as she took the necklace from the jewellery box and fastened it around her neck before handing her one of the plates, setting the two glasses of wine on the bedside table.

"Looks good," Abby murmured, taking a bite of the lasagne. "Tastes better." She winked at him as he settled on the bed beside her, his own plate in his lap. "Better eat up, Gibbs. You're gonna need your strength when I thank you properly for my present."

* * *

><p>Two days later, Gibbs woke to an empty bed. It was the first sign that something was wrong and the first hint that he was going to have a bad day.<p>

A search of the house revealed no clue as to Abby's whereabouts.

He dressed quickly and tried to call her cell phone, curiosity changing into concern when his calls went unanswered. Not only was it unusual for Abby to wake up first, let alone slip out of the bed without waking him up or leave the house without letting him know or leaving a note, it was unheard of for her not to answer the phone when he rang. It was one of his rules, rule three, to never be unreachable – a rule she had taken on as her own within days of learning of its existence.

The drive to work took half the time it should even though he hadn't run any lights that he was aware of. He scanned the parking lot for any sign of Abby's car, his brow furrowing when he failed to spot the bright red paintwork of her car. He checked in with security, scanning the list for her familiar handwriting, biting back a sigh when he couldn't see that, either.

It wasn't until he reached the squad room that he realised why she wasn't answering her phone.

The woman standing in front of the window was familiar, as was the young man standing beside her. Agent Catherine Lowry and Agent Charlie Robertson both glanced at him as he walked passed but neither acknowledged him more than that, turning their attention back to the man in a dark charcoal grey suit, who was in deep conversation with Director Leon Vance.

Tony stood and moved around from his desk, coming to stand beside Gibbs at the plasma screen. Both Ziva and McGee's desks were empty but a glance at his watch reminded him he'd still made it to work half an hour before his shift was due to begin.

"NSA causing trouble again?" Gibbs asked Tony in a quiet voice, glancing at the senior agent of his team.

While Tony had a bit of a reputation for being a joker – for being the 'class clown', as Ziva had once said – he was one of the most dedicated agents Gibbs had worked with. He often got in before everyone else, often leaving after them, too. He was, Gibbs mused, the way he himself had been prior to the change in his relationship with Abby, back when he hadn't really had much of a reason to go home at night.

"The guy in the suit's been arguing with Vance since they left his office ten minutes ago. Agent Lowry hasn't said anything; think he might be her boss." Tony reported, keeping his voice low.

"You hear anything to suggest what this is about?"

Glancing at the NSA agents, Tony turned his body slightly away from them as he answered. "I heard the suit say something about Branley."

"Josef Branley?" Gibbs' attention flickered back to the NSA agents and he caught Catherine's eye momentarily. The senior NSA agent gave him a look that he could only call apologetic, causing the dread he already felt to double. He turned his back on the NSA agents, deciding to try and pretend they weren't there. "Has Abby been here?" He asked Tony, struggling to keep his voice calm.

Tony looked at him sharply, genuine surprise on his face. "She's not with you?" His eyes widened in a way that Gibbs might have found comical had the situation been different. "I mean, not that she would be with you. Not that she shouldn't. I mean, you guys are... Not that I know you guys are..."

"DiNozzo." Gibbs arched an eyebrow and fought the urge to deliver a traditional slap to the back of his agents head. "A simple no would do."

Opening his mouth to confirm that no, he hadn't seen Abby, Tony's attention was quickly diverted to something – someone – over Gibbs' shoulder. His eyebrows shot up and he nodded his head. "I'd say no but that would be a lie. Abby's here, boss. Talking with the suit."

Gibbs turned to look, his jaw clenching as he took in her appearance. Gone were the pigtails, clunky boots and short skirts he associated with the NCIS forensic specialist and the woman he'd fallen in love with. Back were the perfectly tailored suit, leather boots and neatly pinned back hair he knew she thought of as her 'NSA uniform'; sensible, practical and befitting of the NSA agent she once had been.

As if sensing his gaze, Abby glanced over from her conversation with the man in the suit, a flash of something he couldn't decipher in her green eyes. He would wonder, in the weeks and months to come, if it had been regret. His gaze dropped to the v of her top when something sparkled and caught the light and he narrowed his eyes slightly, able to pick out the shape of the dog tags pendant he'd given her just days before against her pale skin.

That, he told himself, was something. A sign the woman he knew and loved was still there, somewhere.

"Gibbs." It was Director Vance who spoke, calling him over to the small group. Gibbs knew from the expression on his face, and the way he kept glaring at the man in the suit, that whatever he was about to say wouldn't go down well. "You remember Agents Lowry and Robertson, and Agent Sciuto, of course," the Director added with a note of sarcasm. "This is Agent Ron Stone."

NSA Agent Ron Stone barely acknowledged the senior NCIS agent, ignoring the appraising look Gibbs threw him. "Sciuto, Robertson, get to work," he ordered instead, his voice gruff and manner impatient. "You know what you have to do."

"Yes, Sir." Abby and Charlie chorused together, with the former giving the latter a faint, reassuring smile as he swallowed hard, his anxiety plain to see.

As Gibbs watched, Charlie headed to Tony's desk while Abby headed to his own. "What's going on?"

"The NSA are taking over the investigation into Josef Branley and his dealings," Stone answered shortly before Vance could. "As I was telling your Director, we would appreciate your cooperation in this matter and expect you to be fully forthcoming with any evidence you've already gathered."

"Why do I get the impression this isn't going to be a joint investigation?" Gibbs wondered aloud, glancing at Vance and Agent Lowry before watching an obviously uncomfortable Charlie explain the situation to an equally obviously unhappy Tony. After nodding at Tony, letting his agent know he was to do as Charlie said, Gibbs glanced at Abby, noticing her close the top drawer of his desk – a drawer he knew she knew he kept no files relating to current cases in. "The NSA so bored you're tackling drug smugglers now?"

"It seems Mr. Branley has been smuggling more than just drugs into the country," Director Vance answered, his tone dour. "The NSA have apparently had their suspicions about his operations for some time but failed to mention it."

Gibbs put the pieces together quickly, staring at Stone and Catherine in disbelief. "You suspected him of smuggling arms into the country and decided to keep it yourselves? Why?"

Catherine bit her bottom lip and shifted uncomfortably. "It's a little more complicated than that, Agent Gibbs..."

"The NSA does not have to explain itself to you," Stone interrupted, glaring at her when Catherine tried to continue. "I understand you assisted us last year but it appears you should pay more attention to what goes on inside your own agency instead of querying what goes on in ours."

"Three of your agents were assisting a known terrorist," Gibbs pointed shortly. "A lot of people died."

"As I said," Stone continued, baring his teeth in a grin that seemed threatening, "we appreciate your help in that matter. However, recent events seem to suggest that NCIS has a few security flaws of your own. How else would you explain the brutal murders of two key witnesses in your most recent attempt at bringing Branley to justice?"

Abby returned to the group with Charlie in tow before either Gibbs or Vance could deny or argue the point with the NSA agent. She glanced at Gibbs briefly, trying to tell him something with her eyes before turning her attention to her superior. "That's everything, Agent Stone. The rest of the evidence is already on its way to the NSA offices."

Stone fixed his flat brown eyes on the NSA Agent-turned-NCIS Forensic Specialist-turned-NSA Agent, his scepticism and suspicion clear. "You're sure you have everything?" He demanded, the look on his face forcing Gibbs to clench his hand into a fist at his side to keep from lashing out. "Agent Sciuto?"

"We have everything," she answered after only a split-seconds hesitation, a momentary pause only Gibbs – and, he suspected, Catherine – picked up on. "We're ready to leave when you are."

For a moment, Stone looked visibly unconvinced. Gibbs didn't like the way the senior NSA agent's gaze moved from Abby to Gibbs himself and then back to Abby. There was something in the look he gave them, something knowing, that Gibbs really didn't like. Instead of commenting, Stone nodded shortly and glanced at Director Vance. "Director. Thank you for your cooperation."

"I'd say anytime," Vance answered wryly to Stone's already retreating back, "but I'd be lying."

Lingering, Catherine sighed and once more gave the NCIS team a faintly apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for Ron's behaviour, Director. He's not usually like this, I assure you."

"No, he's usually worse," Abby added, careful to keep her voice down as the man in question stopped and looked over his shoulder when he realised his agents weren't following. "Agent Robertson – Charlie," she corrected herself, giving the younger NSA agent a winning smile. "Why don't you take the evidence down to the car with Agent Stone? It's the first time he's been here and I'm sure you remember the way from last time..."

Charlie smiled back, clearly still smitten with the raven-haired woman. "Yes, Ma'am. Ah... If that's okay with you, Agent Lowry?"

Catherine bit the inside of her cheek in an obvious attempt at hiding her own smile and nodded her approval. "I'll come with you. And try to distract Ron," she added under her breath, giving Abby a meaningful glance. "Be quick," she warned. "You know he won't like it if you're away too long."

Abby gave her former – current – boss a brief nod and waited until Catherine began ushering Stone and Charlie towards the elevator bank before turning to Gibbs, Vance and Tony, who'd joined them. "I don't have time to explain properly," she said hurriedly, glancing over her shoulder at the retreating NSA agents. 'Check your desk drawer,' she signed to Gibbs quickly before finishing aloud. "And whatever happens, I hope it doesn't make you rue the day we met."

"Agent Sciuto!" Stone's voice carried across the squad room, which was slowly beginning to fill with NCIS agents as the day shift began. Several of them stopped what they were doing, confused at hearing their beloved forensic specialist addressed in such a way. "I'm waiting."

As Gibbs watched, Abby squared her shoulders. The warmth he was used to seeing in her eyes faded, replaced by a coldness that set even him on edge. The woman he knew was gone, he realised, replaced by the agent she was, he hoped, pretending to be. "Yes, Sir. I'm on my way."

She left without looking back, without adding anything further to the conversation. Ziva and McGee passed her as she walked towards the elevators but went unacknowledged, their hurt and confusion visible as they joined Gibbs, Tony and Vance at the window overlooking the city.

"What is going on?" Ziva asked, looking immediately to Gibbs.

"Was that Agent Lowry...?" McGee questioned, throwing a look over his shoulder in the direction their friend had last been. "And Abby...?"

Instead of answering, Gibbs walked away from the group, aware of them following him as he crossed the office space towards his desk. Sitting down in his chair – the chair Abby had so recently vacated – he opened the top drawer of his desk. Moving aside the bits of paper he kept there – notes from old cases, copies of the triplicate forms he was required to fill in on a daily basis – he quickly located the item that hadn't been there before Abby had sat down at his desk.

Holding the flash drive, he glanced at Vance. "Think we'll find some answers on here?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Apologies for the delay in parts; life decided to throw a few hurdles my way. To make up for it, here's the first of two parts I'll post tonight. Thanks, as always, for the reviews & adds._

* * *

><p>The air in the back seat of the car felt oppressive, too heavy and too hot by far but Abby bit her tongue against asking for the air condition to be turned up. No amount of cool air would ease the light headedness she felt or help with the nausea that was rising within her.<p>

Beside her, Charlie gave her a concerned look, opening his mouth to ask if she was okay. He closed it again when she shook her head, glancing meaningful towards the man sitting behind the wheel on the driver's side of the car.

She didn't know whether to be surprised that Stone had foregone taking advantage of the NSA's policy of having assigned drivers for its superior agents or to be amused that her new and hopefully temporary boss had issues with control and insisted on driving himself.

Hiding the flash drive in Gibbs' desk drawer had been a risk but one she hoped would prove to be worthwhile. She hated leaving her friends in the dark, hated the thought of losing them because of the NSA – because the agency who still seemed to believe owned her refused to let her go.

It was true that the National Security Agency had done a lot for her. Without her scholarship to the think-tank that had served as her school, without the money they'd paid for her college education, she wouldn't have become the woman she was. She wouldn't have had the experience or the qualifications that had impressed NCIS Director Tom Morrow, the man who had hired her almost twelve years ago, giving her the job that would bring those she loved into her life. Without the NSA's intervention in her childhood, she would never have met Ducky, Tony, McGee, Ziva or Gibbs...

Her hand rose to the necklace she wore almost subconsciously, her fingers wrapping around the dog tags. The necklace was the only tangible link she had to the man she'd left behind and she found herself hoping he would understand, hoping he'd be able to decipher the messages she'd left for him and realise that she was doing what she had to, for all of their sakes.

Agent Stone hadn't been exaggerated when he'd hinted at a leak in NCIS being responsible for the deaths of the two witnesses in Branley's case, just as Gibbs hadn't been out of place reminding the NSA agent that it wasn't a problem NCIS faced alone.

Josef Branley was a powerful man; she was only just beginning to realise how powerful. It was her job to try and find those who worked for him in both agencies and stop them, hopefully before they managed to kill anyone else.

Hopefully before they found out and tried to kill her.

* * *

><p>The flash drive contained a folder, protected by a password and a document called 'Read me first', which was also, unhelpfully, protected by a password. McGee sat at his desk, tapping away at his keyboard, his movements growing more and more frustrated as the computer kept beeping, refusing him access.<p>

Sometimes, Gibbs thought, Abby could be too good at what she did.

"It's a six digit password," McGee announced, his brow furrowed. "The encryptions are complicated. It'll take me a while to get passed them."

Standing with her arms folded across her chest, Ziva frowned as her teammate resumed his task. "Why would Abby leave us information we cannot access? Surely the password is something we can guess."

"Six digits," Tony mused aloud. "Could be her surname. 'Sciuto' has six digits."

There was a short pause as McGee tried it, his sigh telling them it hadn't worked even before he confirmed it. "Access denied."

"It could be 'marine'," Ziva suggested, an innocent expression on her face when Gibbs shot her a glance.

"Still denied," McGee announced.

Tony slanted a look at his boss. "What about 'Jethro'?" He shrugged at the glare he was thrown in response. "It's got to be something she thinks we'd be able to guess, boss."

Gibbs' blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he stood slowly, moving over to McGee's desk. The younger agent moved out of the way when his boss motioned for him to, confusion on his face. After a moment's hesitation, Gibbs typed in a six digit number as his agents looked on.

Almost as soon as he hit the return key, the text document opened on screen.

"How did you..?"

"What did you type?"

He looked up when they started to crowd around him, the expression on his face telling them to back off. "Twelve, sixteen, ninety-nine," he answered, returning his gaze to the words on screen.

It was a letter, he deduced quickly, addressed to him. It had not only the password they needed to access the encrypted folder on the flash drive and an explanation of why she suddenly seemed loyal to the NSA but also a personal message for him, a message he would prefer to keep from his agents.

"McGee." Gibbs closed the file. "Email me that file, then delete it from the flash drive." He gave his agent a look when McGee started to protest. "The password for the folder is 'leaves of grass'. No spaces, no capitals."

Getting up from McGee's desk, Gibbs returned to his own, opening his email programme and waiting impatiently for McGee to do as he'd instructed. He didn't miss the looks his agents exchanged, wasn't oblivious to the curiosity – or the concern.

"How did you know, Boss?" Tony asked again, the only one with even the confidence or stupidity to press the subject. Privately, Gibbs thought his drive to know the truth was an admirable trace in an agent but it wasn't something he would ever say. "The password?"

"Abby told us." Gibbs shrugged, clicking to open the attachment once the email arrived.

"In the document, yeah." Like a dog with a bone, Tony wasn't dropping the subject. "But how did you know what to put in to open the document?"

Gibbs sighed and looked up from the document on his screen, meeting and holding Tony's inquisitive gaze. "She told us, DiNozzo. Twelve, sixteen, ninety-nine. It's a date."

Tony's eyes narrowed, then widened as the significance of the date dawned on him. To Tony's credit, out of respect for both of his friends, he didn't say anything more on the subject, retreating to his own desk to start going through the data McGee was busy distributing amongst them from the folder he'd opened.

After a moment, Gibbs returned his attention to the text on the screen in front of him.

16th December 1999.

It was a cold Thursday in December, he remembered, a few months after he'd returned to NCIS Headquarters after his assignment in Europe but most importantly, most memorably, it was the day Abby Sciuto had first walked into his life.

* * *

><p><em>'Gibbs,<em>

_First of all, I'm going to have to break one of your rules and say sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you what was going on, I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye and I'm sorry that I don't know when – I won't say if – I'm going to be able to come back to you._

_You'll have gathered by now that the NSA have taken an interest in Branley's case. I've been ordered to gather all evidence NCIS has against him and give it to them. You'll find copies of all of the reports I could find at NCIS on this flash drive, as well as all of the information I could get from the NSA files without drawing too much attention to myself. The password you'll need to get into it is 'leavesofgrass', no spaces, no capitals._

_I'm not going to tell you what to do with it – just please, be careful. I'm only just beginning to realise just how dangerous Branley is and he's not someone who should be treated as a minor inconvenience._

_To make a long letter short, Branley has ties to several groups suspected of terrorism in the US and in parts of Europe. You'll find records of imports and exports he's had smuggled in and out of various countries in the information enclosed and not all of those goods are related to the drug deals NCIS knows about. Firearms, explosives and schematics for weapons of mass destruction as well as the material needed to build them are also high on his agenda. The NSA has apparently known or suspected for months but were reluctant to share the information with any of their sister agencies as Branley has spies everywhere, including here at NCIS._

_I suspect, and Catherine agrees with me, that there are spies within the NSA, too. My official assignment is to assist Agent Stone in his investigation but my unofficial assignment is to help root out these spies, hopefully before anyone else is hurt._

_Please be careful, Gibbs. I wish I could say you're safe inside NCIS but recent events have proven you might not be. Trust the team but no one else unless your trusty gut tells you it's safe to do so. If the wrong person finds out you have this data... Well, I'm trying not to think about what they might do to keep it from getting out._

_I won't make a promise I'm not sure I can keep so I'll just say that I hope I can come home soon. If I don't, for whatever reason..._

_I love you._

_Abby x'_


	5. Chapter 5

To say Director Vance was not happy would be an understatement.

The group that met in the conference room was small, consisting of the Director, Gibbs and the three agents that made up his team. Gibbs was taking Abby's warning to heart and Vance couldn't object. Neither of them wanted to believe there was a spy within NCIS but there were two dead men whose bodies had been removed from the morgue in the basement that morning that said otherwise.

"The records Abby supplied us with go back twelve months," Tony explained, crossing his arms on the table in front of him to keep from fidgeting due to a lack of paper to shuffle. "The NSA has been watching Branley for a while."

There would be no hardcopies of the data on the flash drive, nothing tangible that could be left lying around or discovered by accident. They'd all been working on different files that had been found in the folder on the flash drive and, once they'd finished for the moment, McGee had taken back what they'd done, saved it on the flash drive and worked his magic to ensure there was no trace of the information on their individual computers.

"But they didn't tell us because Branley has one of our own on his payroll." Gibbs was the only person in the room not sitting, preferring instead to pace the length of the table. He couldn't sit down, couldn't understand how Director Vance could look so calm when inside, Gibbs knew he must be as frustrated as he himself was. Of course the Director was just missing a forensic scientist; Gibbs was missing much more. "Maybe more than one, that's what we need to figure out."

Vance looked at him. "Ms. Sciuto is working on isolating the NSA agents Branley has working for him?"

"Unofficially," Gibbs answered with a small shrug. He'd summarised the information Abby had left for him but was reluctant to let anyone else, including the Director, read it. "Her main role seems to be assisting Agent Stone's investigation into Branley. I get the feeling the NSA probably won't be endorsing her investigation into the agency."

"They weren't pleased when some of their agents were revealed to be working for the wrong side during the De Milo investigation," Vance recalled quietly. "Agent Lowry led me to believe some may have blamed Ms. Sciuto for making the discovery and for insisting NCIS be involved."

"If she is acting on her own instincts, Abby may anger someone in the NSA who will want to silence her." Concern shadowed Ziva's eyes as she looked between Gibbs and Vance. "Should we not attempt to assist her in some way? Watch her back?"

"If I thought that were possible, I'd allow you to do so. Unofficially," Vance added, an eyebrow rising meaningfully. "However, I'm under the impression Agent Stone wants nothing more to do with NCIS. He didn't seem entirely enthusiastic about having Ms. Sciuto on his team, either."

Tony frowned and stopped twirling the pen he'd found in his jacket pocket with his thumb and forefinger, wincing only marginally when it landed on the table with a loud clatter. "If Agent Stone didn't recruit her with the purpose of using what she knows about Branley, who did?"

"I'd assume Agent Lowry," Director Vance answered slowly, after a long pause in which the agents present in the room began to speculate. "Though I got the impression Agent Stone was above her in the NSA food chain."

Gibbs stopped pacing, resting his hand on the back of the empty chair at the table as a troubled expression arranged his features. "If it wasn't Catherine or Stone, it means someone higher up wanted her involved."

Almost instantly, the question turned from 'who' to 'why', a question not one of the NCIS agents gathered uneasily around the table could answer.

* * *

><p>The office that had been put aside for her at the offices of the NSA made her feel as uncomfortable as the badge and gun she'd been given by Catherine. Abby walked around the large oak desk, eyeing the black leather chair warily. It felt like an office for someone a lot higher ranking than herself and she was almost convinced the furniture was brand new, which led her to wonder why they'd gone to the effort for someone who wasn't planning on sticking around any longer than she had to.<p>

Abby looked up when she heard a soft knock at the door. She didn't acknowledge Catherine but the senior agent opened the door fully anyway, stepping inside before closing it firmly behind her.

"How do you like your office?" Catherine asked politely, her smile too bright to be genuine. "If there's anything else you need, please feel free to ask. Your computer is already hooked up to the network and I think your log-in details are in the top drawer of your desk... You might want to put a few things out, personal effects..."

"I'm not staying." Her tone blunt, Abby crossed her arms over her chest. "I agreed to help you because it means helping NCIS and hopefully getting one of the bad guys off the streets. When it's over, I'm gone. You know that."

"I do," Catherine admitted with a sigh; her regret was clear to read in her eyes. "I'd like to hope there's a chance you'll reconsider, though I know that's unlikely." She shrugged when Abby continued to stare at her. "It would be more convincing if you could try and act like you wanted to be here, Abby. Several people have already started asking questions, wondering why you're back. If you're going to avoid suspicion..."

She couldn't quite fight the urge to roll her eyes. "I think they're going to get suspicious of me regardless of whether I have pictures on my desk or a plant in the corner, Catherine. It might even be a good thing," she added with a one-shouldered shrug.

"No, it wouldn't." Catherine's expression reminded Abby of her college years spent living in a house with the older woman, disapproval and concern all rolled into one. "No making yourself a target this time, Abby. I mean it."

The tone of voice, too, brought back memories of her youth. She'd heard it many a time after staying out too late at an on-campus party with Annie Green, her roommate and closest friend. There'd been a time Catherine had been more like a second mother than a boss, more of friend than... Abby sighed and turned away, her gaze falling on the computer on her desk. "I don't want to fight with you on this, Catherine. I just want to get it done so..."

"So you can go back to NCIS?" The disappointment was still there, joined once more by bittersweet regret.

Glancing up, Abby shook her head and managed a small smile. "So I can go back home."

* * *

><p>It took four days but an audience with the infamous man was finally granted.<p>

He didn't walk from the elevators like an ordinary man, didn't hang in his head in shame or look apprehensive about the interview that was to take place. No, Josef Branley sauntered his way across the squad room floor, smiling and nodding at the people he passed, agents and visitors alike, as though he knew them all personally.

Maybe he did. Gibbs clenched his jaw, watching from the balcony outside of the MTAC doors as Branley greeted Tony and Ziva like old friends, offering his hand to each of them to shake. Neither of his agents took it, Gibbs noted with satisfaction, just as neither acknowledge Margaret Allison Hart with anything more than a curt nod of greeting.

He waited until the agents had led Branley and Allison from his line of sight before standing straighter, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The interview would take place in the interrogation room at his request. He hoped to annoy the other man, maybe get under his skin a little in the hopes that Branley would accidentally let some titbit of information slip.

"The NSA isn't going to like this Gibbs." Vance's warning was nothing he hadn't already thought of, so Gibbs merely turned his head to look at the Director. Shaking his head, Vance sighed as he joined his agent at the balcony. "They specifically warned us they were talking over where Branley is concerned."

"Jurisdiction for a dead sailor and dead marine still lies with NCIS unless I've missed a memo somewhere." Gibbs shrugged and stared down at the squad room again, watching as McGee walked out of the elevators Branley had vacated just moments before, a familiar woman following him. His eyes narrowed and his hands tightened on the railing. "Is that...?"

"Ruby Rae," Director Vance confirmed after a momentary glance to see what had caught his attention. "We need someone in the lab," he reminded Gibbs quietly. "I've gone through the records. Ms. Rae has worked with us before."

Gibbs nodded, recalling the case on which the young forensic scientist had assisted. "I guess we need someone until Abby comes back. Temporarily."

He pushed himself away from the railing before Vance could comment and took to the stairs. He nodded curtly at McGee and Ruby before heading towards the interrogation room, hoping he could control his impulse and let Branley walk away unscathed.

* * *

><p>Agent Stone slammed the door on his way out of her office but Abby barely blinked. She shrugged and looked at Catherine and Charlie, both of whom sat in chairs around her desk.<p>

"How is it my fault NCIS took Branley in for questioning?" She asked aloud, holding her hand up when Charlie went to answer. "It's okay, rhetorical question."

Catherine cleared her throat and pulled her gaze away from the closed door. "NCIS were warned away from the case. They've annoyed a lot of people by making it obvious they're still pursuing it."

"Annoyed or spooked them?" Abby shrugged when both of the NSA agents stared at her. "Come on, guys. All three of us know what's going on here. By acting the way he just did, Agent Stone just shot up to the top of our suspect list. Well, my list anyway. He's more than pissed off that NCIS ignored his supposedly friendly advice. Looked pretty scared to me."

"Abby, no." Catherine shook her head but Abby noticed the way her hands gripped the arms of her chair a little tighter. "You've know Ron from the beginning. He's as straight-laced as they come. The NSA is his life; he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise it."

She shrugged again but couldn't quite meet Catherine's gaze. Instead, Abby turned to Charlie, the only other NSA agent besides herself, Catherine and a select few members of the NSA's board of directors to know the real reason behind her return to the agency. "What do you think, Charlie? You were quiet throughout his whole rant. Was Agent Stone acting suspicious to you?"

Obviously uncomfortable with suddenly being the centre of both of their attention, Charlie squirmed in his seat. He cleared his throat once and licked his dry lips twice before he was able to make his voice work enough to answer her. "I thought he was more annoyed than anything else. Agent Stone doesn't like working with outside agencies and he probably feels NCIS overstepped the boundaries he'd set out for them."

"Boundaries between agencies have no place in protecting our people from those who want to harm them," Abby said mildly, arching an eyebrow when her companions stared at her. "We all want the same thing at the end of the day. I really don't get why people like Stone put so much emphasis on the who rather than focus on what's been achieved." She paused to sigh, shaking her head to try and clear her mind. "I don't really believe Stone is behind us but the way it looks makes me think someone wants us looking that way. He's playing into their hands, taking on Branley's case and being so protective of it." She shrugged a shoulder. "Whoever is behind this is very well good at covering their tracks, both here and at NCIS."

"I've made no progress with the searches you had me start," Charlie admitted with a sigh. "If someone on the NSA payroll is getting money from Branley, it's not going into any accounts I can find."

"I want you to keep looking but don't risk raising any alarms. I want them looking at me, not you." Abby lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck, glancing at her computer with a speculative glance. "If they're nervous, they'll slip up."

"Or they'll tell Branley and he'll decide you're a loose end that needs to be tied up. Permanently." Catherine sat up straighter in her chair, her eyes narrowing. "You're not making yourself a target, Abby. We've discussed this. No matter how impatient you are to finish this..."

"The NSA had no problem making me a target when it suited them before," Abby reminded her calmly. "I just need a glimpse of them, Catherine. Just something that'll point us in the right direction."

Catherine sighed and shook her head. "And how would you achieve that? Other than going around and insulting everyone you think might be a possible leak?"

An idea formed in her head but Abby was reluctant to share it. She shrugged her shoulders again, more in attempt at easing the tension from them rather than answering Catherine's question. "I'm thinking. When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

Her former boss stared at her in obvious suspicion for a few moments. With another sigh, Catherine reluctantly got to her feet, motioning for Charlie to do the same thing. "We'll get back to it." She followed Charlie to the door but stopped and turned back to face Abby before stepping out of the room. "You'll call me before you do anything, Abby."

Abby gave her a small smile in response and Catherine left, not realising until later that she hadn't verbally agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

Branley didn't seem put off at all by sitting in the one-sided mirror of the interrogation room, or by the knowledge that every move he made, every word he said was being recorded. He sat at the table, smiling, as Gibbs took his seat opposite him, ignoring the hand the drug-dealer-come-arms-smuggler offered.

"You know why you're here?" Gibbs asked gruffly, barely acknowledging Allison as she sat uncomfortably at Branley's side.

"Agents David and DiNozzo explained the situation to me," Josef Branley answered calmly. He clasped his hands on the table in front of him, showing off the expensive gold wrist watch he wore as he did. "I can't tell you how sorry I was to hear of the murders of two of your people, Agent Gibbs. As I told your agents, I'm willing to assist you in whatever way I can."

"Lieutenant Ronson and Gunnery Sergeant Jenkins testified against you." As he spoke, Gibbs pulled photographs of the dead men from the folder in front of him, sliding them across the table to rest in front of Branley. "You recognise them?"

His gaze barely dropping to the photographs on the table, Branley shook his head. "As I told your agents," he repeated, "I meet a lot of people in my line of work. I'm afraid I can't recall meeting either the Lieutenant or the Gunnery Sergeant."

"What exactly is your line of business? Smuggling drugs into the country and pushing them on your customers even when they can't afford them? Get them hooked and have them killed when they can't pay the bill?" Gibbs held Branley's gaze evenly. "Doesn't sound like you'd get a lot of repeat business that way."

"Agent Gibbs," Allison cut in before Branley could respond, much to Gibbs' disappointment. "Mr. Branley was cleared of all charges relating to those offences. If that's what you brought us here to discuss, we're going to have to cut this short."

He couldn't keep himself from giving her a slight glare, before turning his attention back to Branley, who wasn't looking quite as smug. "Both Jenkins and Ronson testified that they were former customers of your client, Ms. Hart."

"Mr. Branley has stated he has no recollection of meeting either of them," Allison answered softly. Her voice was calm but there was a flash of something in her eyes when Branley reached out and touched her hand to silence her that made Gibbs wonder.

"It's alright, Allison, I can speak for myself." Branley smiled at her warmly before turning his attention back to Gibbs. "I run a successful company exporting and importing various goods, Agent Gibbs. To my knowledge, all of my shipments are legal but occasionally, I'm sure the odd illegal item makes it through customs. Surely you can't hold me personally culpable for that, or for what those who are responsible do with those items?"

Gibbs merely stared at him, fixing Branley with the cold blue stare that had broken many a suspect. Branley, for his part, shifted uneasily in his seat, a bead of sweat forming at his brow before he patted it away with a monogrammed handkerchief he pulled from his jacket pocket.

"You must have had some reaction when Ronson and Jenkins agreed to testify against you," Gibbs said eventually, arching an eyebrow when Branley stayed quiet. "Whether you recognise them or not, it must have really pissed you off to have them speak out against you."

"It concerned and saddened me that two young men I know nothing about would try to destroy my reputation," Branley answered eventually. His hands, Gibbs noted, were no longer clasped lightly on the table in front of him but were so tightly clenched his knuckles had turned white. "I did wonder if they'd been offered something in return to testify, by either yourselves or one of my competitors."

"You think someone bribed or blackmailed them into appearing in court?" Gibbs waited a beat. "That's a bit of a stretch, Mr. Branley, especially against someone like you. You mentioned your reputation. Would that be the reputation you have of making sure anyone who speaks out against you lives just long enough to regret it?"

"Agent Gibbs." Allison's tone was sharp but her eyes were wide, almost warning him of pushing her client too hard. "You are deliberately baiting my client, who agreed to cooperate in NCIS's investigation. Mr. Branley, we're leaving. This interview is over."

The smug look was back on Branley's face but it was a little more forced. Some of the self-confidence was gone, Gibbs thought, which meant the man was shaken though he was trying to hide it.

"NCIS thanks you for your cooperation," Gibbs intoned. He stayed sitting as Branley and Allison got to their feet.

Branley preceded his lawyer to the door, pausing as he reached out for the handle. He glanced over his shoulder, a sly grin playing around his lips. "Your forensic scientist also testified against me, if I recall. Please give her my regards when you next see her, Agent Gibbs."

He was on his feet in an instant, his hands clenched at his sides. Allison moved quickly, putting herself between Gibbs and her client, warning the former off with a look as she ushered the latter out of the room.

Clenching his jaw, Gibbs fought the urge to go after them. His back to the one-way mirror, he lashed out, kicking the wall, anger and frustration making him oblivious to the pain as his foot came into contact with the concrete.

* * *

><p>By the end of her first week away from NCIS, Abby was more than ready to go home again.<p>

She missed her lab and her work and couldn't help but wonder who they'd brought in to cover for her – and couldn't help but worry that maybe the Director would decide a permanent replacement was needed.

She missed her friends and colleagues. She missed Tony's sense of humour and the ability he had to always make her smile. She missed Ziva's confusion – and often frustration – at something her teammates had said or done. She missed McGee talking animatedly about the latest game he was playing and she missed drinking tea with Ducky as he recounted a story from his youth.

She missed Gibbs. She missed the sense of anticipation she felt after one of her machines beeped, knowing he'd appear in her lab in a matter of minutes. She missed going home at the end of the day knowing he'd be there, missed working with him in the basement or curling up beside him on the couch before they retired for the night. She missed falling asleep with his arm a comforting weight around her middle and waking up the same way.

Having sold her apartment and practically moved in with Gibbs though neither had acknowledged it or made it official, Abby had decided to stay in a motel rather than find somewhere new to rent. She hoped her assignment at the NSA would be over sooner rather than later and saw renting an apartment for the duration as a waste of time and money.

Lying on the uncomfortable bed, listening to her amorous neighbours through the paper-thin walls of the motel, though, she wondered how long she'd be able to put up with her new living conditions without taking the gun from the bedside table and threatening to shoot them if they shut up. Not only was she tired and struggling to sleep without listening to their seemingly never-ending soundtrack, knowing what they were up to only a few feet away only reminded her of what she was missing out on by being there in the first place.

As the night wore on, she gave up on trying to get to sleep even as her neighbours finally fell silent. She got out of bed and padded barefoot to the desk where she'd left her notes, curling up in the lone chair in the room to read them through for the countless time, hoping an idea would form, hoping to find a way back home.

* * *

><p>Director Vance's secretary, Pamela Cook, was waiting in the squad room when Gibbs and his agents arrived back from processing a scene of an unrelated case, twisting her hands in front of her as she paced anxiously.<p>

"Hey, Pamela, what brings you down here?" Tony greeted her with a smile and a wink, setting his pack down on his desk.

Pamela managed a small smile, her gaze flitting nervously between them all. "Director Vance would like to see you in MTAC. All of you," she clarified when Gibbs arched an eyebrow. "It's... It's got something to do with Abby," she added quietly to avoid being overheard. "I'm to take you up straight away. He said everything else can wait."

No one was going to argue with her. Gibbs started up without waiting for anyone else, taking the stairs two at a time. Pamela followed quickly, with Tony, Ziva and McGee on her heels. The four agents plus the Director's secretary hurried into MTAC to find the Director in conversation with none other than Abby herself.

The conversation stopped when she realised they were there and a smile momentary lit up her face. Gibbs stopped in front of the screen, studying her intently. It was the longest he'd gone without seeing her since their relationship had evolved and he found himself memorising her once more, noting with concern the pallor of her face and the shadows under her eyes.

Abby's gaze drifted over all of them in turn, drinking in the sight of them eagerly before it settled back on Gibbs. He looked tired, she decided, but she thought he was doing a better job of hiding it than she was.

"Ms. Sciuto was just briefing me on the situation," Director Vance stated after the silence stretched on. "You said you had some information you wanted to share, Abby...?"

"I do." Abby looked away, biting down on her bottom lip as she tapped at the keys of her laptop. In a matter of seconds, two things happened simultaneously: one of the tech's in MTAC announced they were receiving a file from her computer and a small digital countdown appeared in the corner of the screen below her. "I'm sending you everything else the NSA has on Branley and his known associates, including details of the last weapons drop. If nothing else, you should be able to use the data in the files to track the shipment of weapons and confiscate them before they can be used."

"What's with the countdown?" Gibbs asked, frowning as the seconds continued to count down.

"It's how long I can maintain the data stream without being detected on this end." She shrugged and glanced at the display, seemingly unfazed that only a few minutes remained. "My access to the network is probably being monitored by the NSA agents Branley has on his payroll. I know my being here is making a lot of people nervous."

"Terminate the link," Gibbs ordered, not sure if he was speaking to Abby or the MTAC technicians. "You said you wouldn't make yourself a target again."

"So did you," Abby countered, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "But you insisted on bringing Branley in for questioning, making you not only a target for him but for Agent Stone as well. You'll probably have to handle that one, Director. I know he's been to his superiors to make a complaint."

Director Vance sighed and glanced at his senior agent. "That really doesn't surprise me."

Gibbs glanced at the technicians busily downloading the data Abby was sending them. "Get what you information you can and terminate the link."

The two technicians glanced at each other, then at Director Vance. When they received a subtle nod from their boss, they tried to severe the connection between the computers. "Ah, Sirs? We can't terminate the link from this end."

"I could've told you that," Abby said quietly, shrugging when all eyes returned to her. "I'll terminate the link when you have all the information. I need to be sure it's in safe hands, that something will be done to stop Branley even if... even if I'm not around to do it."

"Abby..." Gibbs glanced over his shoulder at his waiting agents, at the Director and his secretary and the MTAC technicians. He looked back at the screen as she fidgeted nervously, her fingers tangling in the chain around her neck as her hand closed around the dog tags. "You don't have to do this. We'll find another way."

"Another way will take too long. More people will end up dead. I'm probably already on his hit list and so are you. You pissed off more than just the NSA with your stunt the other day, Gibbs. It's only a matter of time before Branley decides NCIS is a threat he can't ignore, you said that yourself." The minutes and seconds continued to count down. "I can't promise I'll be coming back after this. I'll try but I think we're all aware the chances of that are going to be slim."

"Terminate the link and come back now." Gibbs wasn't sure how he kept his voice calm. "We can work through the information you have..."

"It's too late for that." She looked past him to the others, her smile sad. "So I'm going to spend the next... minute and thirty-two seconds being a little emotional and probably over dramatic if this all does work out. I love you guys. I know I've told you that before but I need to say it now. Working at NCIS, meeting all of you – and that includes Ducky and Jimmy – has been the best experience anyone could ever have. I wrote letters, for you guys and my brother and my mom... They're in the bottom drawer of my desk; Bert has the key for safekeeping. I can tell you that now because... Well, I just can."

"Abs..." Tony took a step forward, his jaw tense. "Please. Do what Gibbs said and terminate the link. We can meet you halfway, keep you safe..."

"I'd be no safer at NCIS than I am here, not with the leaks still out there." She looked to Director Vance, her eyes shining. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you find your mole, Director. Maybe you'll find something I missed in the information I'm sending you, something that'll help you find them."

"Ms. Sciuto." Director Vance narrowed his eyes as mere seconds remained on the clock. "If you can get back to NCIS, I guarantee we'll provide around the clock protection."

"I know you would." Her smile was soft, her eyes bright. "As soon as the transfer's finished, I'll head over there. If I don't make it..." She let her voice trail off and shrugged a shoulder, her expression telling them she was sure that would be the case. Abby dropped her gaze to the countdown, letting her hand fall from the necklace she wore to rest on the table out of sight of the camera. "Time's up. Good luck."

She terminated the connection before anyone could repeat the sentiment back to her.

Gibbs' last memory of her was of bright green eyes, a sad smile curving up her lips and the white gold dog tags he'd bought her resting against her pale skin, a wistful determination on her face as she went to meet her fate alone.


	7. Chapter 7

_Huge apologies for the delay in posting. Life, once again, is getting in the way! _

* * *

><p>They were on their way to the NSA offices when they got the call. Making a small detour and stepping on the gas, Gibbs pulled up alongside Abby's car in a matter of minutes.<p>

What was left of her car.

The windscreen and side windows had been smashed when it had impacted with a tree at the side of the road, the airbags deployed and stained with blood. The back window was also shattered, presumably due to the force of the car that had run her off the road and crushed the trunk.

"There's no body," a worried Catherine told him, striding to meet him as she glanced between him and the car. "If they'd just killed her, they would have left her body for us to find."

The ramifications of what that might mean made his stomach roll and for the first time since he'd begun his career, Gibbs wondered if he was going to embarrass himself by throwing up at the scene. There was only one reason the people who'd followed her would have to keep her alive, and that was to hurt her further.

Silently, Gibbs let his team down the bank towards the car. He glanced through the broken windows, at the shards of glass on the seats, and clenched his hands at the sight of the blood.

So much blood.

Wordlessly, his team began to process the scene, their silence telling him they were just as affected as he was. There was no banter, no jokes between teammates. Just the knowledge that the victim was one of their own and they had no idea where she was.

"Any witnesses see what happened?" Gibbs was pleased his voice not only worked but sounded almost normal, too. He glanced at Catherine when she didn't answer straight away, biting back a sigh at the sight of her shaking her head, arms wrapped tightly around her middle as she fought back the tears shining in her eyes. "Agent Lowry?"

The sound of her name was the jolt she needed. Catherine straightened her back and squared her shoulders. A few moments later, she let her arms drop to her sides. "A witness saw what she thought was an accident. She pulled over ahead to see if she could offer assistance but got back in her car and called 911 when she saw... when she saw what she thought was a body being carried out of Abby's car. The other vehicle was a black van but she has no idea what make or model. We intercepted the call. I was already following Abby because I knew... I knew they'd do this."

He gave her a longer look, studying her. "Did you know what she was planning?"

"No. I made her promise to tell me before she tried anything." Catherine shook her head and glanced away. "I thought I'd made her promise," she corrected herself quietly, "but thinking back, I can't remember her actually saying the words."

A beat of silence passed between them, both thinking about the woman whose car they stood beside.

Tony moved to stand with them, his expression solemn. "It doesn't look good, boss," he said after a moment. "We got a lot of blood, some prints from the doors. It'll be mostly Abby's but..."

"They might've left prints on the doors getting her out," Gibbs finished, nodding slightly. "Good thinking, DiNozzo."

"I, ah, I also found this." Tony hesitated before showing Gibbs the clear plastic evidence bag he held, the white dog tags and broken chain visible inside it. "It was on the floor of the driver's side. Chain's been snapped."

"It's Abby's," Catherine confirmed unnecessarily when Gibbs said nothing and just stared at the bag. "It's the first time I've seen her wear the same necklace more than two days in a row."

"I know." His fingers itched to take it, to slip it in his pocket and keep it close to him as though it were a real connection to the woman it belonged to but Gibbs resisted and slipped his empty hand into his pocket instead. He looked up and held Tony's gaze. The inscription detail of their initials coupled with the Marine's motto would have no doubt confirmed his senior agent's suspicions as to the origin of the necklace – and what that meant for Gibbs' relationship with Abby. "Put it with the rest of the evidence, Tony. Forensics... forensics'll need to go over it."

The minor pause didn't go unnoticed. Tony clenched his jaw to hold back his own emotions and gently lay the evidence bag on top of the box of evidence he carried. "Want me to arrange to have her car towed to the Navy Yard?"

"I'll take care of it." Gibbs tensed his shoulders and gave Catherine a look that dared the NSA agent to argue. "NCIS is taking this case."

Catherine held his eyes for a few moments before she looked away with a sigh. "It's what she would have wanted," she murmured, mostly to herself. Returning her gaze for a moment to Gibbs, Catherine tilted her head. "If you need any assistance, please let me know. I know Abby considered herself yours – NCIS's – more than the NSA's but she was mine, too."

Gibbs acknowledged her with an inclination of his head and said nothing as she walked away. Ziva and McGee joined their boss and teammate on the road, looking down at the mangled remains of the car and stood in silence for a few moments, each thinking but none voicing the same fear: was Abby alive and if so, how long for?

* * *

><p>As the five-week of her anniversary at NCIS approached, Ruby Rae gathered together the evidence from the Sciuto case and put it in a labelled box, ready to be taken to the archives.<p>

The case had run cold, the leads had petered out.

No one at NCIS would admit it but there wasn't anything else to be done and the chances of Abby Sciuto still being alive were slim, if existent at all.

Ruby bit down on her bottom lip and hesitated before putting the lid on the box. She lifted the evidence bag holding the pendant and turned the dog tags over, tracing her finger over the initials engraved on one side through the clear plastic as she pondered what to do with it.

"Hey, Ruby... You ready to go...?" McGee's voice trailed off as he walked closer and saw what she was doing. She watched his jaw tense, an emotion that was gone too fast flashing in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

They were friends first and foremost but in the weeks since she'd been back at NCIS, she'd started to wonder the attraction that she'd felt between them when they first met might not have been as one-sided as she thought. Understanding her actions might put an end to her hopes once and for all, she turned to face to accusation on his face with a certain degree of regret on hers.

"The case is officially cold, Tim," she told him softly, knowing it was unnecessary. He knew it just as well as she did. "It's standard procedure to archive the evidence in case something else comes up later." She set down the evidence bag and reached out to lay her hand on his arm. "I know you miss her. Everyone does. If there was something I could do to bring her back for you, I would."

McGee's expression was unreadable for a moment, his clenched jaw relaxing with a sigh that made her heart ache. He looked past her to the neatly packed box and picked up the bag she'd set down. He remembered seeing Abby wear the necklace, remembered Tony's quick intake of breath as he found it in the car but he'd never looked at it closely before.

He turned the bag over in his hands once he realised the dog tags pendants were engraved, a pained expression on his face at the sight of her cross. He remembered the first time he'd seen the tattoo, remembered standing not far from where he was with Ruby. She'd gotten it after they'd ended their romantic relationship and he wondered if he would always regret not having had the chance of a closer exploration of the painstakingly inked cross.

The Marine motto didn't surprise him; he knew Abby and Gibbs were close and the distance Gibbs had put between himself and the team spoke volumes as to how much he missed their former forensic specialist. The sight of their initials, engraved on the other side of the motto, giving the words a second meaning...

... He waited for the hurt, the sense of betrayal, and sighed when it didn't come.

"This shouldn't go to the lock up," he said quietly, lifting his gaze from the necklace to the woman in front of him. "Well, I know it should. Technically. But..."

"I was thinking of giving it to Agent Gibbs," Ruby admitted, biting her bottom lip again. It was a subconscious gesture, one McGee wasn't sure she was aware she did. One he was struggling not to find endearing. "But I don't know how he'd react. He still doesn't like me."

"He likes you." McGee was quick to reassure her. He shrugged at the sceptical look on her face. "Okay. He doesn't dislike you. He just..."

"... Wishes she was here so I wouldn't have to be. Like all of you." Ruby shrugged when he opened his mouth to deny her claim. "It's okay, Tim. I love it here but I wish Abby was back, too. It's not... It was better when she was here. I liked it more when she was here. I meant what I said. If there was something I could do to bring her back, I would. I know how much you all love her and, selfishly, I'd love to work with her again. She was... is... the best in our field."

McGee closed his hand over the necklace, squaring his shoulders resolutely. "Go put the rest down in lock-up. I'll give this to Gibbs."

Smiling her thanks, Ruby turned away to pick up the box. She glanced over her shoulder at him when she sensed he hadn't left, arching an eyebrow. "If you don't feel like going for a drink tonight, we can put it off...?"

He shook his head at her offer, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "We'll still go." Abby, he decided, would hate the thought of them cancelling because of her.

After another moment's hesitation, he told himself to stop putting it off and turned on his heel, heading to the squad room.

Heading into the lion's den.

* * *

><p>The case was officially cold. Director Vance had taken him aside and told him NCIS could no longer afford or condone using so many resources when it was almost guaranteed she was dead.<p>

While he knew Vance spoke the truth, it wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. Especially not as it had come mere days after McGee had warily handed over the necklace. He winced, remembering the glare he'd given his agent, remembering the cold comment demanding to know if he and Ruby were planning on clearing her personal belongings from the lab, too, to make space for Ruby's own.

The young forensic specialist was good at what she did but she was no Abby. Still, he thought with a sigh and another shot of bourbon, Abby would be the first person to chide him for treating the forensic scientist with so little regard.

With the one case he'd been interested in officially put to the side, Gibbs had let Ducky talk him into going home. He'd turned down the offers of company, preferring to be on his own, but after walking through the door, he'd realised his mistake.

The house was no longer just his home; it was too full of Abby. Everywhere he looked was something that reminded him of her, either a piece of furniture that had moved in with her when they'd decided she wasn't going back to her apartment and wasn't going to bother looking for somewhere else or an item of clothing that had been so carelessly – so rightly – mingled with his own.

He put the bottle back to his lips, drinking it easily.

The memories were hard to live with, too.

Although he was loathe to think of her as dead, it felt at times like her ghost had joined those that already existed in his house and he imagined sometimes, usually after too much to drink and not enough sleep, that Abby and Shannon stood side by side, watching him in concerned disapproval as he drove himself into an early grave.

At least then he'd be with them both again, he told himself morbidly. He'd be with them and Kelly and he wouldn't be alone.

Almost as soon as the thought had formed, he glanced down at the bourbon bottle. Maybe he'd had too much; maybe he hadn't had enough. Maybe, he thought, he should stop drinking from the bottle and...

A creak on the stairs caught his attention. He fumbled for his gun, swearing when he dropped the necklace in his attempts at reaching his weapon.

As he bent to pick up the chain and pendant, he realised it was definitely a sign that he'd drunk too much and glanced up at the black-haired woman walking down the steps in his basement.

For a split-second, his heart stopped and he thought it was Abby. But then the drunken cloud receded and the haze cleared enough for him to recognise the woman looking at him wasn't the one he wanted it to be.

"Not in the mood for entertaining." His fingers closed around the necklace and he righted himself on his stool.

Allison shrugged and crossed the room, taking the bottle from his hand. She met little resistance, his grip tightening on the pendant as she approached instead, and helped herself, her brow creasing as the alcohol hit the back of her throat and burnt its way down. "They say misery loves company. Might as well test the theory."

He took the bottle back with a scowl. "I want to be alone."

"Too bad. I don't." She started to move towards the lone chair in the basement, changed course at the fierce look that crossed over his features. "I heard about Abby. I'm sorry."

Gibbs snorted and took another swig of bourbon, the dog tags burning his palm. "Sure you are."

"I liked her," Allison continued, almost as he hadn't spoken. "She was a good person. Great at what she did." She shrugged again when he continued to stare at her but held his gaze. "She loved you, and it must've cost her a lot to give me the report on the Hernadez case."

"She did what I told her." It was his turn to shrug, his gaze shifting to stare past her. "She did what she had to."

Allison shook her head and sighed as she leaned against the work table. "She took a chance that I'd be able to help you because she hated that she couldn't. She should've given the report directly to Alejandro but she didn't. She was protecting you, even then."

"Even then?" He arched an eyebrow, returning his attention to her face.

"Before you were lovers," she clarified, arching an eyebrow of her own when he stared at her. "Am I not supposed to know...?"

He stared at her in silence for several minutes before shrugging again, taking another sip from the bottle.

"It's fine that you don't want to talk." She stood up and walked towards him. She smiled when he looked up and reached for the bottle again. "Can't say I'm feeling talkative myself."

Gibbs let her take the bottle, watching her drink. Her reaction to the bourbon amused some part of him, while another part hoped it gave her a hangover from hell. He waited a moment, sure she had more to say. When she said nothing, he took the bottle back and used it to motion to the stairs. "Door's that way."

"I know, I came through it on my way in," she retorted smartly.

Her retort reminded him wistfully of Abby, Abby who'd never been afraid to stand up to him – not when it mattered – and he chased the thought away with another swig.

"Look, I don't want anything." She said with a sigh, rolling her eyes when he just looked at her. "You're unavailable, I'm unavailable. I just wanted company and figured since you were in the same boat, you might want some, too. Drinking with someone else is slightly less pathetic than drinking alone or so I've been told."

Again, he let silence be his answer and, again, he let her take the bottle from his hand.

Several moments passed without either of them saying a word, just passing the bourbon bottle between them. Allison handed it back and pushed herself off from the bench beside him where she'd been standing, pacing the basement, picking up the hand tools and inspecting them carefully before setting them down again.

After watching her for a while, Gibbs put the bottle down but was careful to keep hold of the necklace concealed in his palm. "Something on your mind?"

She laughed shortly, an unhappy sound that didn't surprise him. "A lot of things."

"Someone on your mind?" When she turned slowly to look at him, Gibbs knew he was right. He shrugged at the mild surprise on her face. "You said we were in the same boat."

Allison tried to smile but it was strained, her eyes glinting suspiciously. To Gibbs' relief, she looked down at her hands as she tried to compose herself. A few minutes later, she answered his question, her quiet voice carrying in the otherwise silent house. "I met him when I was away. Told him all about the situation with the Reynosa cartel and expected him to run a mile but he didn't. He stayed. Told me about his situation, promised he'd keep me safe as much as he could..." One shoulder rose and fell. "He's a good guy at heart, just sometimes has to do things he doesn't like to make sure the people he loves are safe." Glancing at him through a veil of dark hair, her smile was small. "He reminds me of you in that way."

Gibbs didn't respond to the comparison but held her gaze. "Where is he now?"

Her smile faded and a troubled expression crossed over her face. "I'm not really sure. He has a very demanding boss and his line of work..." Her voice trailed off on a sigh. "I keep telling myself I'd know if something had happened to him, that they'd tell me, but I'm not so sure they would."

He couldn't comfort her, not with his own grief so close to the surface. Instead, Gibbs pushed away from the workbench, still clutching the necklace and headed for the stairs. "Spare room's out of action." It was full, he knew, of the furniture from Abby's apartment that hadn't yet found a home in his house. "The couch is yours if you want it."

Allison followed him up stairs, her voice soft but grateful. "Thank you."

* * *

><p><em>Don't kill me... ;)<em>


	8. Chapter 8

She was alive but didn't understand why.

Abby curled up as much as she could in the corner of the room – an attic, she suspected, due to the closeness of the ceiling to her head and the fact that it never seemed to get too cold. A small mercy, she decided with a rueful sigh.

There were handcuffs around her wrists, which were in turn chained to the top pipe running alongside the wall. The pipe got very hot at times, making for an uncomfortable experience – and making it impossible to rest her head against it when she was trying to sleep. Her legs, thankfully, were left unrestrained, which not only kept them from getting too stiff but also made it easier to fend off the advances of some of Branley's smarmier guards.

She couldn't figure out why she was being kept alive.

Her first days – maybe weeks – had been spent in another room, tied to a chair as Branley inflicted his own brand of interrogation on her. Her heart had broken when he'd been joined by a few she knew from the NSA, one an agent she'd worked with years ago who looked at her with remorse and another an agent she'd only ever seen in passing, who seemed to enjoy her torture even more when he was the one allowed to dish it out.

When she'd refused to give Branley the information he'd asked for – data that would put her colleagues at both NCIS and the NSA in danger, information that he could exploit and use to his advantage to get past the safeguards in place on both networks and systems – he'd taken pleasure in making her suffer.

Her ribcage was a multi-coloured patchwork of cuts and bruises and she was certain her skin was sporting more than one new scar thanks to his fascination with making her bleed. His favourite weapon, after his fists, was a pocketknife he'd had especially sharpened, he told her, for particularly stubborn guests.

She thought she'd made it clear that she had no intention of answering his questions, just as he'd made it clear he had no intention of answering hers. He'd laughed when she'd asked for names – more when she'd pointed out she wouldn't have a chance to use them even if he told her.

The door to the room opened and Abby found herself wincing at the light that suddenly fell over her. Her eyes took a moment to adjust and in that time, her visitor had crossed the floor and dropped to his knees in front of her.

Relief and apprehension went through her in equal measures as she recognised the man kneeling in front of her as John – she didn't know his last name and wasn't going to ask. One of Branley's henchmen, John was a familiar face. He'd stood in the background as she'd been beaten more than once but the sympathy on his face and the way he'd clenched his jaw and fisted his hands told her he didn't enjoy being a witness to the show of dominance.

He was an unlikely ally, often sneaking food and water to her outside of her allotted meals. They didn't speak much out of fear of being overheard but he was the closest thing she had to a friend in Branley's empire and it made her feel better if not a little suspicious to see him again.

"Drink," he told her quietly, lifting the glass of water he'd brought with him to her lips. She did so eagerly, her throat parched. "Branley's going to come and see you again tomorrow."

Taking a moment to swallow the offered water, Abby grimaced. "Great."

"You could just tell him what you know," John suggested after a moment, the concern in his eyes doing little to ease the sudden suspicion she felt.

Turning her face away when he offered her more water, Abby narrowed her eyes warily. "Is that what this being nice to me has been about? Earn my trust then suggest I give him what he wants for my own good?"

He sighed and shook his head, setting the glass of water down beside him. "No. I was going to say you could make it up if you have to. Just tell him something so... Save yourself, Abby. You can't keep living like this."

"If I tell him what he wants to know – even if it is a lie – he'll have no use for me and he'll kill me. At least this way..." She shrugged a shoulder, leaning forward to let her head rest on her hands, careful to keep her face away from the hot pipe. "My friends won't give up on me. I know the case itself has no doubt gone cold but they won't give up on me. It's only right that I don't give up on them."

"Abby." John ran his hand through his dark hair in evident frustration. "He's not a tolerant man. I don't know how much longer his patience will last..."

"I don't know why it's lasted this long," Abby interrupted, raising her head. "I don't know why he hasn't just killed me already."

"You're not the only one he wants to suffer," John admitted after a long pause. At her look of confusion, he sighed once more. "Your Agent Gibbs pissed him off. He knows... He's had people watching you, gathering intel. He knows you're together and he thinks the longer he keeps you here alive, the more Agent Gibbs and your colleagues at NCIS will endure when your body is found and they realise how long you suffered and how long they had to save you." He waited for a moment for his words to sink in. "I'll try and help you get out of here but you have to keep yourself a live long enough for me to figure out how to do that. Cooperate or make him think you're cooperating. It'll buy me time and save you from being hurt any more than you already are."

"Why?" Her question was a whisper, her earlier confusion returning to mingle with the dread she felt at his answer. "Why are you doing this?"

His smile was faintly bittersweet, his eyes shadowed. "We have a mutual acquaintance," he told her quietly. "Someone I care about. Branley... He knows about her, has her under his thumb now because of her involvement with me. Once I've got you out of here, I'm going to ask her to leave with me. Get her as far away from him as I can."

"You could go to the police, to NCIS." Clinging to the hope his words had revived, Abby looked up at her earnestly. "Go now and tell them everything. They'll offer you protection and you can tell them I'm here. Please, John. It's the best chance either of us have to survive this."

His short laugh wasn't a pleasant sound. "No offence, but the last people NCIS offered protection to didn't exactly get their happy ending, did they?"

A shadow passed over her face before a thoughtful expression arranged her features. "So I finish my job first and find out who the NCIS leak is first. I could bait him some more..."

"He'll kill you," John protested.

"He's going to kill me, anyway," she pointed out in resignation. "Even if he does... You could take back what I learn and save yourself and who knows how many others." She gave him a one-shouldered shrug, the determined expression on her face telling him that to argue would be pointless.

* * *

><p>He sat behind the wheel for a few more moments, trying to compose himself. Telling people their loves might have been found dead was his least favourite part of the job, more so when the people involved were ones he cared about.<p>

Tony swallowed the lump that rose in his throat at the thought of the body on the way to the coroner's office, found only a few hours ago behind a dumpster not more than five blocks away from Branley's office.

He tried to tell himself it couldn't possibly be Abby but the description had matched her almost perfectly.

He blinked back the stinging moisture in his eyes and squared his shoulders as he got out of the car, glancing up and down the street before heading up the path to Gibbs' front door.

The others had volunteered to come with him, or to break the news themselves, but Tony had resisted. With the exception of Ducky, who was already on his way over to the coroner's office, he and Gibbs had known Abby the longest and he felt he owed it both to his boss and to his friend to be the one to deliver the potentially devastating blow. Abby would have wanted him to do it, he told himself firmly, she would've wanted him to be there to support Gibbs even if the man himself didn't appreciate it.

Tony reached out for the door handle, unsurprised to find the front door unlocked. He had a feeling that, had Abby been around, he would've found he'd needed to knock for entrance but without her... Shaking his head, he let himself in, following the sound of running water through to the back of the house.

He stopped in his tracks, eyebrows shooting upwards at the sight of the woman sitting at the dining room table, a plate of toast in front of her.

"Agent DiNozzo." Allison greeted him cautiously, her smile uncertain.

Gibbs moved through from the kitchen at the sound of her voice, pausing when he noticed Tony.

"She's barely cold and you're already screwing someone else?" The accusation dripped from Tony's tone, his eyes flashing in anger – and in hurt.

"I'm not..." Gibbs' denial trailed off as Tony's words registered in his mind. "What..."

"Y'know, I actually thought you cared about her. I thought Abby was someone special but I guess she was just someone to warm your bed, right? Someone to keep you company when got tired of being in the basement by yourself all night?" Tony shook his head, his jaw tense, and turned on his heel.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs followed him, grabbing his arm before he reached the front door.

Looking down at the hand on his arm before looking up at his boss, Tony let the betrayal he felt show on his face. "They found a body this morning. The description matches Abby." Glancing past Gibbs to where Allison had come to join them, he pulled his arm away. "Part of me hopes it is her," he said quietly, his gaze returning to Gibbs' face. "At least then you won't get to break her heart."

There was a tense moment. Gibbs stared at Tony silently. His face was pale, his expression distant. Starting to feel guilty, wondering if he'd misread the situation, Tony opened his mouth to apologise but stopped himself when Gibbs pushed past him, heading for the door.

"Boss?"

"I need to see her," was all Gibbs said. His shoulders were set stubbornly but the look on his face sent a surge of concern through Tony.

Forgetting about the woman still inside the house, Tony followed him out onto the drive, taking his keys out of his pocket. "I'll drive."


	9. Chapter 9

Whatever doubts Tony had as to the sincerity of Gibbs' feelings for Abby faded as they arrived at the coroner's office. The car journey was completed in silence and, while never talkative, Gibbs did nothing but stare fixedly out of the window ahead of him, his hands clenched on his lap as Tony drove.

"Tony. Jethro." Ducky greeted them, his normally sparkling blue eyes dull with fear and apprehension. The ME pulled himself up to his full height and stared at Gibbs in obvious concern. "If you would prefer, Jethro, I can ID the body on my own."

"No." Without looking at either of them, his gaze fixed firmly on the door ahead of them, Gibbs' tone left no room for argument. "If it's Abby, I need to know."

Ducky exchanged a worried look with Tony before nodding, his reluctance clear. "Then we'll all go in together. If it is her..."

They didn't want to finish his sentence nor believe it was possible.

The three men were alone as they entered the room, with Ducky having cleared the way for the viewing to be private. The ME took up his usual position at the head of the gurney and reached out to pull back the sheet covering the body from view, his usually steady hands shaking.

"Duck." Gibbs' voice stopped him and Ducky let his arms fall to his sides. With hands that trembled despite his best efforts, Gibbs reached out and touched the sheet, grasping the edges with his fingertips. He took a deep breath and heard Tony do the same before tugging it down gently, over the face of the woman on the gurney.

Time stopped.

Her black hair stood out in stark relief against her pale skin, her full lips tinged with blue. There was a tattoo on her neck, a thinly inked image of barbed wire tangled around the thorny stem of a rose.

"It's not her." Tony spoke first, the relief in his tone palatable.

"Oh, thank god," Ducky murmured faintly.

Gibbs stared down at the body, his hand clenching into a fist as, for a moment, he saw a spider web instead of barbed wire and a spider instead of a rose bud.

"Jethro."

"Boss." Tony's hand on his arm steadied him as he swayed. Gibbs let himself be turned away from the body as Ducky recovered it with a sheet. "It's not Abby, Boss. It's not her."

"Not this time."

Next time, they knew, could be a different story.

* * *

><p>"Just tell me what I want to know, Abigail, and I'll let you go."<p>

Abby turned her head away from the hand he lifted to her face. She could taste blood in her mouth and spat it out, wrinkling her nose.

Branley rocked back on his heels, shaking his head in exaggerated sadness. "You're making it unnecessarily hard on yourself," he told her, his kind tone a mockery. "Just tell me how to get past the NCIS firewalls," he coaxed gently. "All I want is a little information, a little cooperation..."

"Don't you already have people on the payroll for that?" It was an effort to turn her face back to him, conscious as always of the sharpened knife he held in his other hand. "Is that what you pay them for, Mr. Branley? To cooperate and sell out their colleagues?"

His jaw tensed but he rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you mean, Abigail. I have no one from NCIS on my payroll."

"Of course not," she snorted derisively. "You're just psychic and that's how you figured out where Ronson and Jenkins were."

Branley laughed but there was nothing pleasant about the sound. He stood up, towering over her. His disappointment and disapproval when she tilted her head up and held his gaze instead of flinching away was apparent. "If I had spies, you would have been able to find them, yes? It's what you were working on."

"I found the NSA agents you've got in your pocket," Abby pointed out with a one-shouldered shrug.

"By letting them find you," he conceded. "Probably not the wisest thing you've ever done, I'm sure."

"Maybe." She shrugged again, watching him through narrowed eyes as he walked away from her. "But I've had a lot of time to think since being your guest and I think I've figured it out." Her words stopped him in his tracks and she continued when his shoulders tensed. "There was no money trail between any of your accounts and any account belonging to someone at NCIS, which makes me think you were paying them some other way. Maybe not directly. Maybe the money's going into an account that doesn't belong to them but that they can access."

She waited a beat, watching as he turned around to face her, his expression unreadable. "It sounds unnecessary complicated to me, Abigail."

"I'll give you the complicated part but I think you know it was necessary," Abby continued quietly, studying him intently as she spoke, waiting for the little tell that would give him away. "So you're going to kill me anyway, might as well tell me how you've gone undetected. My best guess at this point would be that you're paying the money into another account, maybe belonging to a dead relative, a lover or maybe a child..." She almost smiled at the slight flicker of his eyes to the side, the giveaway she'd been waiting for. "Is that how you hid the trail, Josef? Bet it gives you a kick to think of something so obvious going undetected for so long?"

He turned away from her again, choosing not to answer – to confirm or deny – her suspicions. He didn't need to; she'd seen the reaction she'd been hoping. Only for a split-second but that was long enough. His barked orders to the two men who'd accompanied him didn't surprise her even as her stomach knotted in apprehension. "Get rid of her. Dump the body where they'll find it. Eventually."

* * *

><p>The atmosphere in the squad room wasn't pleasant. While they were all relieved Abby's body hadn't been found, they were all uncomfortably aware that the next body that was found could easily be the one they didn't want to see.<p>

Tony hadn't told his teammates that Gibbs hadn't been alone when he'd gone to break the news but McGee and Ziva could sense there was something not right between the senior agent and their boss. When Margaret Allison Hart walked out of the elevator not more than two hours later, they both saw Tony tense and wondered what was wrong.

Gibbs looked up only when Allison stopped in front of his desk, arching an eyebrow when he realised she wasn't alone.

"It wasn't Abby," Allison said quietly, her eyes searching his for confirmation even though she sounded confident that what she said was the truth.

"Not this time."

"Hopefully I can help make it never," the man standing beside Allison spoke softly, his arm slipping around Allison's waist as Gibbs looked up at him. "My name is John Beckett. I have information you need on Josef Branley."

Getting to his feet, aware that around him his agents were doing the same, Gibbs looked from Allison to John, realisation dawning in his eyes as he remembered her words from the night before. "You work for Branley."

"I do." John held his held high under the weight of the almost accusatory tone. "And I'm willing to help you get him, and save your friend."

"What do you want in exchange?" The question came from Tony, who stared at the newcomer with the same suspicious hope Gibbs felt.

It was Allison who answered, biting her lip as she glanced at her lover. "We'll help as much as we can regardless but we'd appreciate NCIS's help in getting us into a witness protection programme."

"We'd like a new start. One where we can both let go of the past and focus on the future."

After a moment's consideration, Gibbs gave them a slow nod of agreement. "We'll see what we can do. You mentioned Abby..."

"I did." John glanced at Allison, continuing at her small smile of encouragement. "I know where he's holding her. I know what his plans are. I told her I'd get her out of there alive but I'll need your help if I'm going to keep that promise."


	10. Chapter 10

They chose not to kill her until they reached the dumping site, deciding not to risk leaving any more evidence of her stay at Branley's building than was already there. Abby couldn't help but roll her eyes at their discretion; they hadn't seemed concerned about leaving blood or other evidence behind during their attempts at questioning her.

She sat in the back of the van, her hands cuffed together and a strip of duct tape over her mouth, keeping her from screaming out for help.

Not that there would be anyone around to help her, she thought ruefully. John hadn't returned since their last conversation in the loft and she was sure they wouldn't be so stupid as to choose somewhere populated to kill her. Branley wanted her body found but the streetlights she'd glimpsed as they'd bundled her into the van in the underground parking lot suggesting the night was closing in around them.

After what felt like an eternity, the van rolled to a stop. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, bracing herself for the inevitable. She heard their voices, muffled through the closed doors, and a laugh that sent shivers down her spine.

Then she heard the shouting, the sound of bullets being fired and the pounding of feet against the tarmac.

Abby's heart began to pound in her chest as she heard a low, agonised groan followed by the sound of the key being turned in the lock of the van. She blinked when light flooded the back of the van, squinting against the bright light of a torch to try and make out more than the silhouette of the person standing in front of the open doors.

"Abby."

In no time at all, Gibbs was beside her, gently pulling the duct tape from over her mouth even as he barked out an order to the agents behind him to find a key for the handcuffs.

Leaning against him, Abby let her eyes slide shut again, listening to the sound of his voice more than the words of reassurance he spoke.

* * *

><p>There was something comforting about being back at NCIS Headquarters, walking through the squad room and seeing the familiar faces, most of which seemed genuinely pleased to see her back. Abby smiled and paused to indulge in small talk with several agents, forcing herself not to be bothered by the way their eyes strayed to her still fading bruises visible on her face and neck.<p>

She was greeted with hugs and grins from the agents she was closest to even though it'd only been a matter of hours since she'd seen most of them last. Even Ruby, the forensic specialist who had temporarily taken her place met her with a bright smile and a quick hug. Abby wondered if the younger woman had been told about her new assignment and decided from the pleased look on her face that she had.

After she'd said her hellos, Abby walked towards the stairs leading up to MTAC and the Directors office. Gibbs followed her, reaching out a hand to keep her from walking up them, a look of concern he didn't try to hide on his face.

"I won't be long," she promised with a smile. Despite their small audience, she moved to stand before him, leaning in to brush her lips against his cheek. "We can go as soon as I've done this."

"Sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"I'm sure." Without waiting for an answer, Abby started up the stairs. She headed straight for the Director's office, slowing when Pamela looked up at her. "Hey, Pamela. Is Director Vance available?"

Getting to her feet, Pamela gave her an apologetic smile. "I just put a call through to him. It was SecNav so he might be some time... Can I get you a drink of water or something? You're still on leave till next month, right?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Sitting on the edge of Pamela's desk, Abby let her gaze fall to the photographs beside the computer screen. "Your kids are cute. How old are they?"

"Steven's nine, Victoria's five." Pamela's smile was genuine but her eyes darted nervously from the photograph of her children to Abby. "They're a handful but they're worth it."

"Must be tough, raising them on your own." Abby waited a moment, dragging her gaze away from the innocent smiles to look at the Director's secretary. "Is that why you did it?"

"I didn't..." Pamela's attempt at a surprised expression fell flat as guilt shone in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." A tear slipped down her cheek as she shook her head. "I thought... I didn't know he'd kill them. I just thought..."

"You can tell us exactly what you thought with a lawyer present, Pamela." Director Vance told her quietly, a note of compassion in his voice. He looked to Abby as his secretary was led away by the two agents who had been waiting in his office. "You found a trail from Branley to Ms. Cook."

"To her late husband," Abby answered with a shrug as she stood up from the desk. "Branley was paying into an account set up in his name, which automatically fed into accounts she'd set up for her children."

Director Vance sighed, not entirely happy with the revelation even though he felt relieved the leak at NCIS had been plugged. "Good work, Abby. Enjoy your vacation."

"I will, Sir. Thank you." With a final glance at the photograph on the desk, Abby forced herself to walk away.

* * *

><p>Just under two weeks later, Josef Branley was finally convicted. As Tony, Ziva and McGee celebrated in a bar in Washington, DC along with Abby's new official assistant, Ruby Rae, Ducky and Jimmy Palmer, a dark haired couple walked hand in hand on a beach in Miami, enjoying the first real day of their new life together.<p>

Miles away, in the sleepy town of Stillwater, Gibbs and Abby sat around an open fire with Jackson Gibbs.

"I almost don't want to go back tomorrow," Abby admitted with a sigh, leaning against Gibbs as Jackson handed her a mug of steaming coffee – sweetened exactly to her taste with cream and sugar he and his son would never use.

"You're welcome to stay longer," Jackson offered, his smile genuine. "I've loved having you both here."

Gibbs tightened his arm around her shoulders, turning his head to kiss her forehead. "If you wanted, I could call Vance and see if we can extend our leave."

Smiling up at him, Abby shook her head. "You're already itching to get back to it. Admit it, as much as you've enjoyed the last fortnight, you've been counting the days till we go back." When he didn't deny it, she took a sip from her drink before nestling her head against his shoulder, her hands clasped around the mug. "I miss the guys, and my lab."

"I'm sure they miss you, too." Jackson settled in the chair opposite the small couch the couple were sitting on. "But don't be a stranger. You're welcome anytime, Abby. With or without Leroy, I'd always be glad of the company."

"Gee, thanks, Dad." Gibbs rolled his eyes but gave his father a grateful grin when Abby tried to stifle her giggle in his shoulder; her mood had been sombre throughout the day, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of the court case wrapping up in Washington DC.

"I'll remember that, Jack. Thanks."

The three lapsed into a companionable silence, enjoying the company, their drinks and the warmth from the fire. When Jackson excused himself half an hour later, he bid them both a fond goodnight and left them alone.

Gibbs waited until he heard the door to his father's bedroom close before sitting up, easing her away from him gently. He smiled at her confusion and took her mug from her, setting it on the table in front of them before turning back to her.

"Something I gotta do before we go back." He almost laughed at the expression on her face, shaking his head. "Not *that*, don't worry." Relief and maybe a little bit of disappointment showed momentarily on her face, both disappearing behind genuine pleasure when he pulled the repaired necklace from his pocket. "Thought you'd want this back."

"I thought I'd lost them." Touching the dog tags, Abby smiled up at him with shining eyes. "Where...?"

An image flashed through his mind, of the snapped chain and pendant in a plastic evidence bag but Gibbs shook his head, dispelling it. "It doesn't matter." He motioned for her to turn around, lifting his hands to fasten the necklace around her slender throat when she complied. His fingers brushed the skin of her neck deliberately, the shiver that went through her in response making him smile.

Turning back to face him, she tilted her face up to his to accept his kiss. She settled back against him with a contented sigh a few moments later.

The nightmare was over. Life could begin again.

* * *

><p>End<p> 


End file.
